


Princess and the Potter

by weaverofdreams45



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Fluff, Love at First Sight, Miscommunication, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-03-27 14:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19014853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weaverofdreams45/pseuds/weaverofdreams45
Summary: Harry Potter is a young man living as a servant in his own home.  After the death of his mother leaves him an orphan, his Aunt and Uncle come to live with him.  Over the years, he dreams of one day venturing to the big city where his parents met.  His opportunity comes in the form of an invitation, to Princess Hermione's 21st Birthday Ball.  When he gets to the city, he discovers himself and more with the help of his friends and a mysterious servant girl (who isn't what she seems.)This is a variation on the Cinderella fairytale.  Non-magic AU.





	1. Operation: Bring Harry to the Ball

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! I had this idea a few weeks ago and since I've hit a bit of a writing rut in my Dramione story, I figured I'd give this a shot. I hope you enjoy!

Staring up at his Aunt, he knew before he even opened his mouth what her answer would be.  “You?  You want to go to the ball?”  Her shrill laugh cut through him like a knife, and he once again found myself wishing that he could just run away from this awful place.  Dudley, having just finished his second plate of biscuits, joined in her laughter.

“There’s no way we are letting you embarrass us in front of the royal family, you don’t even have proper clothes for the occasion.  Dudders here would be a much more suitable husband for the Princess.  After all, it isn’t like she can marry…well someone like you.”  She looked down her nose at him, and he just knew that he must still have had cinders on his face from cleaning the fireplace.  As the September chill started to come, the fires were going almost constantly.  He muttered under his breath about how technically he was kind of nobility.  His dad was an earl or a duke or something so that makes him something too.  Doesn’t it?  Wracking his brain, he tried to even remember his father’s formal title.  Marques of Godric’s Hollow maybe?

He must have said it too loudly because she looked like she wanted to murder him.  “Don’t you have chores to be doing?”  Her face was red, and he knew it would be best for everyone if he just gave in.  Sighing deeply, he made his way over to the sink.  Dudley had made a mess with his snack and hadn’t bothered rinsing anything.  What was new?  He hated living with his Aunt and Uncle.  He hated his cousin.  Some days he even hated his mother for making him promise that he would stay with them.  She couldn’t have known how awful they would become.

Harry thought fondly back on the days when his parents had been alive.  His father had died of consumption when he was 5.  Memories from his father were rare, but he could feel that they were happy.  His mother…well his mother had been the light of his life when she was alive.  After his father passed away, they had asked his aunt and uncle to move in with them.  She was a widow, so she couldn’t provide for either of them on her own, and she refused to remarry whatever wealthy bachelor came along.  His Godfather Sirius had even offered to marry her, but when his job took him to the continent, she didn’t want to leave the home she had made.  Vernon and Petunia helped her pay for costs, but that meant that they now owned the only place Harry had ever called home.

It had been an accident, the day that he became an orphan.  Harry had been playing in the road and a carriage came flying around the bend.  His mother had pushed him out of the way, but she got hit full on.  Her last words were for him to take care of the house, and her family.  Her death had destroyed him, orphaned at only 11.  It didn’t take long after her death for Vernon and Petunia to change everything.  Less than a year after she died, he was living in a glorified cupboard and scrubbing the floors.  Their cruelty made him want to run away more times than he could count, but he could never bring himself to do it.  He saw his parents everywhere, and if he listened closely, he could even hear Lily’s voice humming a tune.

His only friend in the world was a lord’s son who he would occasionally see in the market.  Ron was the youngest son of seven children, so he was able to come and go pretty freely.   His father, Arthur, was the Earl of Ottery St. Catchpole.  When Ron had brought Harry home one day, he had saved his younger sister Ginny from drowning.  Arthur was so grateful that he insisted he pay for his schooling.  It was due to this that he now could calculate sums, read and write.  The Burrow, as their estate was lovingly called by the locals, felt more like a home than his own home most days.  Reluctantly though, he always had to go back to Privet Drive; back to his Aunt and Uncle.  He couldn’t leave, no matter how much he wanted to.

The invitation for the Ball had come in the post three days prior, and Harry could see it out of the corner of his eye as he scrubbed the plates from breakfast.  His hands were rough and cracked as he dried them to look once again at the roll of parchment.

_Subjects of the Realm_

_You are hereby invited by their Majesties King David and Queen Helen_  
_to a ball in celebration of Her Highness Hermione Jean Victoria Elizabeth_  
 _on the occasion of her 21 st birthday._

_All eligible young men above the age of majority are invited to present themselves  
to the crown for consideration for the hand of Her Highness._

_It is a masquerade.  Suitable attire is required._

Tossing the invitation to the side, he sighed loudly.  The rumors of the princess were inescapable.  Many spoke of her beauty and charm, while there was also one that insisted, she was incredibly quick to anger and held a fierce belief in justice.  From the stories Ron always told him from his time at court though, she seemed amazing.  Of course, his red-headed friend had quite the crush on the fair princess.  Every man in the kingdom would be on their way to the palace to woo the princess, but Harry had smaller goals.  He wanted to visit the Capitol, to see where his father and mother had grown up and fallen in love.  His mother always used to tell him about when his father was just a young rogue causing mayhem in the palace, and she was just a precocious scholar studying in the citadel.  All he wanted was a chance to see the palace, the town, something other than the confines of his home and the Burrow.

“Boy!”  His uncle called out, and Harry groaned.  It was probably time for tea.  Grabbing the nearby tray, he added some biscuits and scones; although Dudley had already eaten a good number of the biscuits, he had made the day before.  Greedy and gluttonous were probably the best two descriptors for his cousin.

He walked into the sitting room to find Petunia practicing piano while Dudley and Vernon sat on the chaise discussing something about Vernon’s business trade.

“About bloody time.  Bring tea immediately.  You know how your Aunt needs to have her afternoon tea.”  Knowing that saying anything would just result in some sort of punishment, he nodded absently, his legs moving him back to the kitchen without a single thought from his brain.  Hanging the kettle over the fire, Harry stared out the window.  A cool breeze rolled in, the first sign of the coming of fall, and he took a deep breath of the crisp fall air.  A loud hoot brought him out of his misery, and he lit up as he recognized the Weasley’s bird.

“Hello Pig.”  Harry greeted, offering the owl a bit of crumb from the bread he had baked that morning.  He was always amazed that the Weasleys had trained an owl to carry messages so well, it must’ve been magic.

The sliver of parchment tied to his ankle caught Harry’s eye and he grabbed it, unfolding the paper.

_Did you get your invite to the ball?  Dad says you can come with us if you want!  Percy’s bought some fancy new clothes, so we have an extra set if you need it.  Gin’s going absolutely mad because Dean’s gonna be in town for the party.  Please don’t make me deal with her all alone.  Send back a response with Pig! – Ron Weasley_

Harry hesitated as he re-read his friend’s invitation.  Surely if he didn’t need to buy dress robes than his aunt and uncle had no reason not to let him go.  A new hope in his heart, he grabbed the kettle as it boiled, nearly burning himself but at the last second remembering to grab a dish towel to act as a barrier.  Pouring out the hot water into a delicate tea pot with pretty a pretty blue floral pattern, he steeled himself for his second attempt.

Unsurprisingly, by the time he returned to the sitting room with the tea, all the biscuits were gone – and the only evidence they ever existed were scattered across Dudley’s lapel.  “Be quick about it.”  Vernon insisted, tapping his finger against the table impatiently as he watched Harry pour their tea like a hawk.  Petunia took three spoons of sugar, Vernon took cream, and Dudley took both.

Once they seemed to be placated, and they were all drinking their tea, Harry cleared his throat to gain their attention.  Petunia was technically his guardian, as per his mother’s request, so he turned to her.  “Aunt Petunia, I know when I asked you earlier about the Princess’s Birthday Ball, you said that I couldn’t go because I don’t have proper clothing.  The Weasleys have offered a set of dress clothes for me, and they’d bring me too.  I don’t even want to appear before the princess!  I just want to go to the capitol.  I can take care of myself; you wouldn’t have to worry about anything, and I can make sure I’m back early…”

His rambling was cut short by his Aunt’s stern expression.  She took one final sip of her tea before placing the cup back on its saucer with a quiet chink.  He had seen her angry enough to know that he’d just made a mistake.  “My husband and I took on a great burden when we took you into our home.”  Harry had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes, they were in his home…his parent’s home.  “And all we ask in exchange is that you help out around the house and don’t cause any trouble.  Now you ungrateful boy, you will not go to the Ball.  You will stay here and oversee the manor while we travel to the capitol.  We’ll be gone for the whole of next week to prepare, and we can’t leave the house alone now can we?”

Knowing that this would happen and experiencing it were two separate things, and Harry could feel himself deflate.  He should’ve known they’d never let him go.  Nodding his head, he walked back into the kitchen, holding back the tears that he wouldn’t let come.  His aunt and uncle were so cruel, and as much as he wanted to leave, he couldn’t do it. 

Moving to his tiny room next to the cupboard, he took stock of his meager existence.  His room, if it could be called that, was smaller than Dudley’s closet.  It was only large enough for a mattress of straw and a small block of wood that he used as a desk.  On the desk there was a single candle he used for light, a small bottle of ink, a quill, and a handful of fresh parchment.  A few of the books he’d acquired over the years sat in a small stack in the corner.  Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he grabbed a sheet or parchment and carefully ripped off a strip from the bottom to write his answer back.  The quill shook in his hand as he responded to Ron’s message.

_I can’t go, too much to do at home.  Have fun!  I hope that you finally get your princess. – Harry Potter_

Pigwidgeon stilled as Harry attached the parchment to his leg, and flew off when he was done.  At least if he couldn’t go to the ball, his family would be gone for a full week!

It was that thought that kept Harry going through the next four days before his aunt, uncle and cousin headed to the capitol.  Through all of the ridiculous demands and the yelling and the punishments for no reason.  The air had chilled considerably over the past few weeks, and Harry found his cupboard was getting increasingly freezing.  He began his winter tradition of sleeping next to the dying fire in the kitchen.

Finally, the day arrived when they would leave, and not even Petunia’s shrill voice and Dudley’s bullying could bring him down.  He would finally have free time to catch up on his reading; Arthur had given him a book on Greek Mythology last time he had visited, and he was just about to get to the story of Helen of Troy.

“If I find even one speck of dust or a single hair out of place when we return, I will have your head boy.  Do you understand?!”  Vernon’s bulging eyes glared at Harry, disturbed by the boy’s smile.  He was suspicious of the boy already, but his pleasant demeanor after they had refused to take him to the ball made him even more so.

“Yes sir.”  Was Harry’s curt response, already counting down the seconds until they were gone and he was free.  The driver of the carriage opened the door, and Petunia stepped inside first, holding her nose up in the air as she did so.  Dudley was next, and it took all of Harry’s control not to laugh when he briefly got stuck in the narrow opening.  Vernon was the last, and he got in with one last warning glare towards his black-haired nephew.  Waiting until the carriage was no longer visible, Harry let out a loud cheer, pumping his hands in the air.

Sitting down for a leisurely lunch at the table – a treat as he usually had to eat in the kitchen holding the plate in his laps – he made sure to savor his hearty meal of chicken and rice.  He was reading the book on mythology when a flash of red hair caught his eye.

“What are you doing here?”  He asked, his mouth hanging open as he took in the fact that his friend was standing in front of him.  It took nearly half a day to get to Godric’s Hollow from Ottery St. Catchpole, and it was in the complete opposite direction from the Princess’s palace.

“Isn’t it obvious?”  A soft feminine voice asked, and Harry turned around to see Ginny was also with Ron.  He was excited to see them, since Petunia hadn’t allowed him to visit them in several months, but they should’ve been on their way to the Ball.  His expression of pure confusion must’ve said enough because Ginny sighed and plopped down on the couch in a very unladylike manner.

“We’ve come to kidnap you.”  Ron spoke, a mischievous smile working its way onto his face.  Ginny mirrored his smirk, and Harry began to grasp what was going on.

“No.  No!  Absolutely not!  If my aunt and uncle see me I will never be allowed out of this house ever again.  Not to mention they would murder me if the house went unattended for a week.  No.  I need to stay here.”  The hesitation in his voice was evident, and he could tell by the gleam in Ginny’s eyes that there was some sort of plan he wasn’t privy to.  Ron whistled, and suddenly a short man with whispy grey hair appeared behind him.  His features were shallow and pointy, leading him to look more like a creature than a man.

“Harry Potter, it is a pleasure.”  The short man offered, holding his hand out for a shake.  Harry tried his best not to display his observation of the man.  Ron just laughed, clapping Harry on the back and gesturing to the man.

“This is Dobby.  Used to work for the Malfoys, but now he’s sort of…I guess you could say he’s free now.  But when he came by looking for work I knew he’d be perfect for operation Bring Harry to the Ball.”  Thinking up a million more reasons why this would never work, Harry began shutting them down.  If someone could take care of the house while he was gone, and he came back early, then maybe they could pull this off.

Seeing the resignation fall over Harry’s features, Ginny squealed in delight, her ginger hair bouncing as she jumped up and down.  “Oh, I can’t wait for you to meet Dean.  I have a feeling you and he will get along smashingly.  He is a bit tightly-wound, being a navy man and all, but he is the biggest sweetheart once you get to know him.”

“I can’t believe I’m letting you two talk me into this.”  Harry mumbled to himself, absent-mindedly wandering into his room to pack a spare shirt, spare trousers, and his book.

“Let’s go before I come to my senses.”  He insisted, pushing past Ron and Ginny and out the doors of his home.  Too afraid, he didn’t even look back until it had become nothing but a blur in the distance.  The ride was long enough that Ron and Ginny had to talk him out of turning back no less than three times, but all his concerns were forgotten as they approached a large stone gate.  The doors were being held open as the whole of the realm answered the call for Princess Hermione’s hand.  Merchants lined the streets, and delicious smells escaped from bakeries and restaurants, filling the air with an intoxicating smell.  Harry could hardly take in what he was seeing; suddenly overwhelmed by everything.  This was more people than he’d seen in his entire life by at least ten-fold!

“Try to look less like a codfish when you get to the Ball.”  Ginny teased, and Harry snapped his jaw shut.  He couldn’t help it though, the sights and sounds of the city seeping in through his skin.  There was just something about this place that seemed right to him.  This crowded metropolis was more home to him in the seconds he had spent there than his family’s home had been for years.  He had a week in this city to make a lifetime of memories before he went back to the bitter life he’d known for the last ten years.  He intended to make it count.


	2. Keeper of Keys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry ventures through the streets of the bustling city and wanders into a handful of shops, meeting faces new and old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am super overwhelmed by all the support this story has gotten. I can't thank you all enough, it means the world to me that you all read my work, especially if you leave a kudo or a comment. Here is the next chapter. This story will likely be 10 chapters, with one chapter for each day leading up the ball and two for the ball. There may be an epilogue depending on if people want one or not.

The streets of the capital were so crowded that it took all Harry’s strength to maneuver around the people with his horse.  Brilliant white and grey in a sea of bland neutrals and pale colors made him stand out like a sore thumb.  Ron and Ginny rode chestnut colored horses from their father’s estate, while Harry’s stark stallion was his Godfather’s. 

“Woah Buckbeak.”  He called, pulling hard on the reigns when he saw Ron and Ginny depart down a side street.  The back alleys and narrow paths were much less crowded, and Harry was finally able to take in the city.  Little shops and carts lined every street, with bakers slinging hot iced buns and dressmakers promising the finest of garments for a night in the palace.  He followed dutifully after his friends for a time, until he found himself drawn in by a dark-looking alley way.  His friends were speaking with an innkeeper, a task which would occupy them for a time, so Harry decided to venture down the dark path.

It was strange, he thought as he crossed the cobblestone street, that there should be such a contrast of people between this part of town and the previous.  Where there had been light colors and patterns and good smells and warmth in the entrance to the town, this place was dark and cold and smelled distinctly of something that Harry couldn’t place other than that he would likely not be enthused to find out its origin.

The little street was deserted compared to the bustling city center, and Harry realized that those who were in the area didn’t seem to want to meet his eye or looked at him suspiciously, as if he was trying to steal from them.  Before he realized it, he had gotten lost in the darkness of the back alleys, arriving at a narrow street with shops lining the sides.  At the end of the street was a mysterious looking shop with a mangled hand in the window.  Not the sort of place he should’ve been, but he felt a need to go in anyway; surely someone there would be able to direct him back.  Tying Buckbeak’s reigns to a nearby post, Harry dismounted and walked cautiously into the shop.  A worn wooden sign read Borgin and Burkes in chipping paint.  Only a few feet into the shop, he was surrounded by disembodied heads, jars of eyes, a human brain; and he quickly made his way out.

He’d only stepped a single foot out of the creepy shop before a giant man with a wild beard approached him.  “Blimey you must be Harry Potter.”  The man insisted, and Harry gulped as he realized the man was almost freakishly tall and broad.  He looked like a giant!  Wiping his glasses to make sure he was seeing the man correctly, he nearly gasped.

“How do you know me?”  Harry asked, somehow preventing his fear from permeating his voice.  While normally he would have been relieved to find someone who knew him, in this place it was less than welcome.

“I knew your parents.  Lily was always so kind to me.”  The larger man smiled fondly on the mention of Harry’s mother, and Harry could feel his apprehension leave his body. 

“Yes well, I am Harry Potter, although I’m afraid that I do not know your name.”  Holding out his hand to the man, he tried not to wince when he shook it a little too tightly.  He wondered how this behemoth of a man knew his parents.

“Hagrid.  Rubeus Hagrid.  I maintain the grounds at the Palace.  Your mum loved chatting with me about the animals I care for, big heart for animals she had.  Your dad was always trouble though…one time when he was around your age, a prank he pulled released all the chickens on the grounds.  Took me days to gather them all back up again.”  There was no animosity or annoyance in Hagrid’s voice, instead it was full of something like amusement accompanied by a bittersweet smile.

“Haven’t seen you since you were a babe.  You’ve become a handsome young man at that.  Just like your father.”  Harry smiled brightly at the comparison.  He loved looking like his father, but it wasn’t often that that phrase was sent his way as a complement.  Petunia preferred slinging it at him like it was acid when he displeased her, _Oh you are just like your father boy._

“I would love to hear more stories about my parents, but perhaps we could converse in a less…dark location.”  Harry’s body language betrayed how uncomfortable he was, and Hagrid clapped him on the back, saying that he would lead the way back to Diagon.

“Knockturn is a rather unsavory set of streets, but there are some things that can only be bought there.  You shouldn’t have a need to go back.”  Harry grabbed Buckbeak’s reigns and fell into a quick rhythm following alongside Hagrid.  The larger man was much older than he looked, and he apparently had some excellent stories about his Godfather as well.

“I can’t believe Sirius is still alive!”  Harry remarked, following Hagrid’s story involving Sirius, purple dye, and a very displeased headmistress.

“McGonagall looked like she wanted to tan his hide when she discovered the plot, but if you ask me I think the old woman had a soft spot in her heart for those boys.  Lord knows that’s the only explanation behind why they weren’t expelled every day.”  Through the stories Hagrid had told, he had woven them out of the dark corners that Harry had trapped himself in and they emerged back into the bright and bustling streets of Diagon.

“Harry!”  A high voice cried out, and he didn’t have time to prepare himself before Ginny had landed a hard punch on his arm.

“OY!”  Harry yelped, pulling his arm away and rubbing where her fist had made contact.  For such a slight aristocratic girl, she sure could punch.

“Oh shove off it didn’t even hurt.  Where have you been?  Ron and I have been worried sick that you’d been trampled or enticed into some brothel.”  Ron simply nodded along absently as his sister yelled, shooting Harry a look that said, _Why did you leave me alone with this?_

“I got a bit turned around.  Hagrid here came to save the day and showed me back.  He knew my parents.”  Harry was beaming as he introduced the tall man, and was relieved to see a familiarity in their introductions.

“We know who Hagrid is Harry.  Everyone in the city does.  Been taking care of the grounds for decades.  Thanks for returning our poorly directed friend back to us.  First time in the city you know.”  Ron and Ginny shared a mischievous look and said their quick goodbyes to Hagrid, promising to stop by for tea during their stay.

Once they had gone their separate ways, Ron, Ginny and Harry made their way to the Leaky Cauldron to check in.  Ron had booked two small rooms; one which he and Harry would share, and one for Ginny.  While he grumbled about Ginny getting the nicest things because she’s a girl, Harry knew Ron was excited to not be sharing a room with his younger sister.  The room itself was quaint, with a large bed draped in reds and golds.  Warmth permeated the space as a fire roared in the small fireplace.   The flames bathed the room in a soft yellow light, and it was beautiful to Harry.  Everything about this town was beautiful, even the shady place he’d been informed was called Knockturn.

“This bed is giant!”  Harry commented, collapsing on the soft blankets with a dramatic sigh.  Although Ron didn’t live in a glorified cupboard like the Harry, his ancestral home was not as large as most - having been expanded over the years as more children were born – so the red-head nodded his head eagerly, jumping onto the side of the bed opposite Harry.

Ron began listing off all the things that they could do in Diagon, and with every additional phrase, Harry felt his smile grow.  Who knew that this whole world existed outside of his home?  His Aunt and Uncle didn’t abide by the frivolous nature of the capital, but even they couldn’t ignore the draw of the city once their precious Dudders had a chance to be King. 

“We have about an hour before dinner is served downstairs if you want to go shopping for a bit.”  Harry lit up at the idea, before deflating again.  “I don’t have any money.”  Harry began, reaching into the pocket of his trousers and pulling out a small leather pouch.  Inside the pouch was his meager savings, a collection of knuts, a handful of sickles, and one golden galleon.

“That’s alright.  We don’t have to buy anything.  I thought your parents left you a fortune though…”  Ron added, realizing that he likely shouldn’t have said that only moments after it was too late.  The dark-haired boy’s face scrunched in discomfort and moved his gaze away from Ron’s.

“My Aunt and Uncle feel that I’m not responsible enough to have access to it.  They’ve spent a lot of it I think…not even sure how much would be left.”  The sadness in his voice dripped with a mix of resentment, and he rubbed away the inklings of tears in his eyes.  He’d spent too much time in his youth crying and wishing things would be different.

Ron, unsure of how to comfort his friend, clapped him on the back and changed the subject.  “Well let’s go.  My brothers have their shop open, maybe they’ll give me a family discount.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What do you mean it’s 5 Galleons?  I’m your brother.”  Ron whined at two identical red-headed boys who looked like they were enjoying Ron’s little fit perhaps too much.  Harry noted his friend had a bottle of mead in his hand, and the twins seemed to share a knowing look before saying, “10 Galleons” at the same time. 

Harry tried to hide his laughter, but a few chuckles escaped anyway.  He had become close to the twins as well when he had visited Ron when he was young, and he was always fond of their pranks and overall mischievous nature.  Now they ran a very profitable specialty shop that sold both alcohol and pyrotechnics; which Harry thought was brilliant but also a horrid combination.

Catching his eye on a little firecracker that looked like it wouldn’t be too much money, Harry asked Fred what it cost.  “Its on the house for our favorite little brother.”  Fred responded, making eye contact with Ron the whole time, and smiling as the boy in question turned a violent shade of red.  Before Ron could say something, he’d regret, Harry thanked the boys and pulled his friend away by his collar.

“Arseholes.”  Ron muttered to himself, although all animosity was lost once they wandered into the sweet shop. Honeydukes was absolutely filled to the brim with people, and Harry was immediately overwhelmed by the selection and variety of candies, toffees, and chocolates.  He looked fondly over at the chocolates section, remembering how his mother used to offer him pieces of chocolate when he was feeling particularly sad or missing his father a little more than usual.  _It’s the only cure for sadness you know_ , she used to say.  Pulling out two of his sickles, he quickly grabbed a chocolate frog and traded the money with the woman at the counter, knowing that he couldn’t afford to spend any more money on sweets.

By the time Harry located Ron in the moving throng of people, his friend’s arms were filled with treats.  Licorice sticks, sugar sticks and Bertie Bott’s every flavor beans overflowed from his arms.  “Choclit fro?”  Ron asked, gesturing to the box in Harry’s hand with his mouth full of a licorice twist.

“I was craving some chocolate, and this looked interesting.”  Harry offered, shrugging his shoulders.  Helping Ron carry his treasure back to the counter, they departed back for their room at the Leaky.  Ginny was in the lobby when they came back, and she simply rolled her eyes at her brother and stole a piece of licorice.  She was already gone by the time he had opened his mouth to complain, and Harry smiled at his friend when he gave him a look like, _Can you believe her?_

When they arrived back at the room to drop off Ron’s hoard of candy, he asked Harry what card he got from his chocolate frog.  Confused, Harry opened the box, finding a portrait of an old man with half-moon spectacles smiling back at him.

“Dumbledore.  I’ve got loads of him.”  Realizing Harry had never been to the capital before and was fairly sheltered from society, he continued to explain.  “He’s the advisor to the King and Queen.  Practically runs the country, and actually runs that big fancy school in the castle.  He’s been Headmaster of Hogwarts since before my mum and dad went there.”  Harry’s eyes lit up as he realized that the man must have known his mother and father well, considering they had met when they were attempting Hogwarts.

“Do you think I’d be able to meet him?  He’d be at Princess Hermione’s ball right?”  Mentioning the ball brought up another topic that Harry had forgotten to consider.  “Bugger.  I completely forgot it’s a masque.  Suppose I’ll have to buy something tomorrow.  Where do I even get a mask?”

“Merlin you’re right.  I didn’t even think of that.  We’ll have to go ask Gin.  She’s a girl, she’ll have thought about that.  You should’ve seen mum fussing over her getting the perfect dress to impress high society.  I mean it’s ridiculous, she’s already engaged.  I’m the one who’s trying to bed a princess.”  Ron lifted his head up in an imitation of one of the highest lords, perfectly looking down his nose at Harry.  It was an imitation that they had perfected as children, especially after having the displeasure of meeting Lord Malfoy and his prat of a son.

“I’m excited to dress up honestly.  It’ll be loads better than my grungy hand-me-downs certainly.”  He looked down at his shirt, noting it’s discoloration.  He never got clothing of his own nowadays; the last new shirt he owned had been when he was eleven, and he was at least a foot taller and much broader than he had been then.  Now he just wore his robust cousin’s old things, which almost all smelled even after being washed and had holes in them.  “Why do you figure the Princess chose a masquerade?  Do you think she’s secretly hideous and they’re trying to hide it?” 

Harry was joking, but Ron sent him a glare.  Honestly Harry didn’t understand how his friend was so in love with the girl when he’d only seen her from a distance a handful of times.  Resolving himself, he decided that he would much rather marry for love than for status.  A bell rang somewhere downstairs, and Ron catapulted out of bed.  Harry looked at him for a split second, confused, before he realized there was only one thing that would earn such a response from his friend; dinner.

The meal was not lavish by any means, but it was much better than Harry’s diet of leftovers and hard bread.  It was a simple dinner with roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, soft dinner rolls, and a brilliant pudding he’d never had before.  “Wait so this is a pumpkin pastry?”  Harry asked, eyeing the orange dessert with hungry eyes.  He had never had much pumpkin at home, but he’d grown rather fond of pumpkin juice on the occasions he found himself at the Burrow.

“Ye…”  Ron offered, once again speaking with his mouth absolutely filled with food.

“You know, you’ll never catch your precious princess with manners like that.”  Harry joked, although Ron didn’t seem to like that, as he threw a roll at Harry’s face.  Bouncing off his glasses, Harry just laughed.  Ginny, having watched their whole interaction with an amused interest, finally gave in to the fits of giggles that she’d been holding back, which earned a glare from her brother.

“He’s right Ronald.  Imagine if mum was here to see you do that.  If you embarrass her in court she’s likely to murder you…or worse, accept the marriage contract Lord Brown has been offering.”  All color drained from Ron’s face as he thought back on the silly girl he had spent a summer with a few years before.  She had become too attached too quickly, bordering on obsessive.  After Ron had informed her he had no intentions to marry her, she’d thrown a fit (not that Harry could blame him, he could only tolerate being called Ronniekins and Won-Won so much).

“So what were you up to today Gin?”  Harry asked, tasting the pastry and nearly swallowing the rest of the dish whole.  It was warm and gooey and perfect, and he grabbed a second and a third.

“Oh you know, met up with Luna, went shopping.  The usual.”  There was a flush on her cheeks and a glint in her eyes that made it fairly obvious she was lying, but he wouldn’t press the girl about it.  She seemed relieved that he hadn’t asked any follow-up questions, eyeing her brother nervously.  There was only one thing she could’ve been doing that would lead to this type of response, and if Ginny spent the day with Dean, he wouldn’t be the one to tell Ron about it.

“Who’s Luna?”  Harry asked instead of pressing on the vagueness of her answer.

Her eyes lit up with glee as she began describing her friend (who Harry thought sounded more like a fairy than a person).  Ron added tidbits here and there, whispering to Harry that the girl was certifiably mental, but also the coolest person he’d ever met.

“She’s coming to the ball with her husband, but don’t be surprised if she tries to cleanse your aura or something.  Eccentric is probably the best way to describe her, but none-the-less she’s my best friend.  I’ve actually asked her to be my hand-maiden for the hand-fasting when Dean and I get married in the spring.”  Ginny smiled so brightly at the mention of her fiancé, and Harry found himself longing for that sense of love.

“Well I don’t know about you all, but I plan on leaving the ball with a wife of my own.”  Ron said confidently, digging into his second round of pudding as he did so.  The confidence already made Harry feel the need to laugh, but to top it all off, some of the frosting from one of his cakes spilled onto his shirt.  Both Ginny and Harry laughed so hard that they were having trouble breathing, and Ron glared at them both equally.  After having a few minutes to recover, and a session of her brother pouting like a spurned child, Ginny turned to Harry to ask him a question.

“So what about you Harry?  Planning to find the girl of your dreams at the Ball?”  Her eyes glinted with mischief, and he hoped she wouldn’t try setting him up (especially after hearing her describe her best friend).  He took a moment to think over his response, trying to determine how to respond.  Of course, he wanted to marry and have a family, but he’d never really thought it would happen, or rather that he’d have the opportunity.

“I suppose if I find someone who I can talk to as easily as I do you and Ron.  I’ve never really considered it before.  There aren’t exactly many women waiting to throw themselves at a poor orphan in Godric’s Hollow.”  Forcing a smile on his face, he tried to hide how much he wanted a love.  Even Ron had had loves in the past, even if they were silly, vapid village girls.

“No worries mate.”  Ron started, clapping his hand on Harry’s back.  “When I marry the princess, I’ll introduce you to some of her hand maidens.”  Harry couldn’t help but laugh at his friend’s offer and stifled a yawn.  He hadn’t slept well the night before, having had to prepare the Dursleys for their travel.  It wasn’t late yet, but everyone was weary from their travels, so they decided to go to bed early and go out to do some shopping and visits tomorrow.  Ginny, whatever she had really been up to that day, had managed to get Harry a meeting with a professor at Hogwarts who had been friends with his father.  The man actually seemed thrilled to be able to talk to James Potter’s son.

Kissing Ginny’s knuckles and bowing, Harry and Ron ascended the stairs back into their cozy room.  Nearly collapsing on the bed, the dark-haired boy removed his glasses and shoes before laying back.  He and Ron were both asleep seconds after their heads hit the pillow, excited for the days to come. 


	3. A Mysterious Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and his friends prepare for the ball with a busy day of meetings and shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I meant for every day to be a chapter, but then this day seemed to get away from me, so instead of having one 10,000 word chapter, I'm going to have two 5,000 word ones. Hope you enjoy! As always, comments and kudos make my day.

Harry was shocked to find that when he woke up the next morning, there was a beautiful snowy owl sitting on the sill of one of the windows in the room they were renting.  The gentle tapping of the beak against the glass woke him from the excellent dream he’d been having.  Grabbing his glasses from the bedside table, he stretched briefly before walking up to the large paned window.  The snowy owl had beautiful white and grey feathers, and when he opened the window it not only hopped inside but seemed to nuzzle into his hand.

“What a beautiful girl.”  He commented, earning a noise of appreciation from the animal.  Ron had told him about the unusual way mail was delivered in the capital but seeing it with his own eyes was spectacular…magical even.  He’d only ever received owls from Ron, and even then Pigwidgeon was not a very impressive bird.  It was much more of a sight to see flocks of owls flying in the sky outside his window.

Noticing the parchment rolled up and attached to the owl’s leg, he also noticed a tag hanging from a blue ribbon around her neck.  “Hedwig are you?”  He mused, and the bird seemed to chirp in recognition.  Unwrapping the parchment from its position, he was surprised to see not Ron’s name, but his own on the paper.

_Harry Potter,_

_I have heard you are in the capital for this week due to the upcoming ball celebrating our Princess.  It was one of the greatest joys of my life to teach your parents, and I would like to cordially invite you and your companions for tea in my office at Hogwarts at 3 pm today.  Please send Hedwig back with a response._

_Albus Dumbledore_  
_Headmaster of Hogwarts_  
 _Advisor to their Majesties_

Harry’s eyes widened as he read and re-read the note.  “Dumbledore…”  He wondered aloud, hearing a wide yawn behind him.

“Wa bou Dumbledore?”  Ron asked through his yawn.

“Dumbledore has invited us to tea at Hogwarts today.  Says someone told him I was in the city.”  His face lit up as he read the line about his parents again.  “Maybe he’ll be able to tell me more about my parents when they lived here!”  Excitingly grabbing the quill that laid on the desk below the window, he quickly scribed a response.

_Mr. Dumbledore,_

_My friends and I would be honoured to have tea with you.  We will see you at 3:00._

_Harry Potter_

Watching the owl go, Harry could hardly contain his excitement.  It was 9:00 now so he had six hours to go before he would get to meet the man.  Ron seemed to not only have less enthusiasm, but also to not want to get out of bed.  Harry was up and ready to go before Ron had even so much as brushed his hair.  The darker haired man had chosen a simple outfit for the day, black trousers and one of his less worn linen shirts.  It may have been white at one point, but his aunt had ‘accidentally’ dyed all his clothing gray a few years back.  Ron dressed similarly, and although his clothes were also hand-me-downs, they were of a much higher quality than Harry’s.  Straightening his glasses and attempting to brush his unruly hair into submission, he gave himself a once over in the mirror.  He certainly wouldn’t be attracting any princesses with his styling, but he didn’t look quite as disheveled as he had when he arrived.  Once Ron finally got ready (meaning once Harry had annoyed Ron into motion) the two made their way down to breakfast.

“Good morning Ginny.”  Harry greeted, seeing that the vibrant woman was already waiting at the table when they arrived.  Unlike Ron who always looked like he’d been run over by a carriage in the morning, Ginny seemed to revel in the crisp air and sunshine that spilled through the open windows.  Her brilliant red hair was twisted up in a very fashionable up-do, and she wore a pale blue color that brought out her eyes.  Harry had always found her beautiful, but never could bring himself to see her as anything other than a sister.  “Thank you for getting me that appointment with Dumbledore.  We’re going to tea at three.” 

“Dumbledore?”  She questioned, a look of confusion passing through her eyes.  “He’s not the person I got a meeting with.  I got a meeting with McGonagall.  I don’t know how you got an invite to tea with the King and Queen’s advisor, but it definitely takes someone with more connections than me to make that happen.  Good thing McGonagall asked to meet at 1.  We should have plenty of time between to show you around the school.”

Harry’s nose scrunched as he took in what she had said.  If Ginny wasn’t the person who told the Headmaster he was in the city, then who had?  He only knew two people in the capital.  Deciding that it didn’t matter who had been the one to tell the old man he was there, he returned to being excited.  Plus, now he had another meeting with the woman Hagrid had told him stories about.  She would surely be able to give him some more information on his parent’s youths.

“Harry and I realized that we’re gonna need masks for the ball.  Didn’t even think about that until he brought it up.  You’ll need to come with us or we’re doomed to look like complete and utter nutters.”  Ron knew how to manipulate Ginny into doing things and playing along with her high opinion of herself was one of them.

Looking victorious, she took another strawberry from the bowl in the center of the table, popping it into her mouth.  “You would be lost without me wouldn’t you.”  Ron nearly broke out of his smile, but his mission of looking his best so the princess would fall madly in love with him won out over the possibility of making fun of his sister.  After all, when he was the Prince Consort, he could make fun of his sister all he wanted and if she tried to retaliate, he’d have her thrown in the dungeon.

“Absolutely aimless.”  Ron laid on thick, watching Ginny preen in the sight of her brother having to be nice to her.  Reveling for another minute or so, she finally gave in.  “Oh alright.  We can go after breakfast to search for masks.  That should leave us plenty of time to walk to Hogwarts for our meeting with McGonagall.”

The rest of breakfast passed in companionable conversation centering mostly around Dean.  As sour as Ron was that any man was marrying his sister, especially one of his mates, he did seem to be playing up his opposition.  Ginny talked about Dean in a way that made it 100% clear that she was completely besotted with him, and Harry could only hope that Dean would speak the same way about his pseudo-sister.

When Ron was done with his fifth plate, he finally decreed that he was done, to Harry’s relief.  Ginny could eat just as much as Ron when they were at the Burrow, but her mother’s voice stayed in the back of her ear when she was away from home screeching about proper behavior for a lady.  Harry was so used to table scraps and leftovers that he was careful not to indulge too much; his first meal at the Burrow he had gotten sick from over-eating.  He often wondered where his red-headed friends got the room for the sheer quantity of food they consumed, but he never did figure it out.

Heading out from the Leaky Cauldron into the streets of Diagon Alley, Harry was once again overtaken by the new experiences around him.  Today they wondered into the garment district, which housed a tailor’s shop, haberdashery, dress shop, and jewelry store.  Madame Malkin’s was what Ron referred to as, “The snottiest place for the snottiest people”, but Ginny insisted that if they were going to find masks, it was the best place to look.

Walking into the brick building, Harry first noticed that there were far less people in this store than the chocolate shop and Fred and George’s establishment.  It seemed to be the sort of place that the everyday person would dream of one day being able to shop in, and Harry could see Ginny nearly drooling over a section of dresses made of Italian silks.  Grabbing her arm and dragging her to the mask section, Ginny immediately got to work looking through the masks.  She had found her own mask quickly, choosing a three-quarter mask that covered the bottom portion of her face.  The white and gold mask brought out her eyes, and she had immediately claimed it.

“What about this one?”  Ginny asked, holding up an orange mask that had the features of a lion.  It seemed to be a popular one as there were only a few left in stock.  Harry shook his head, but Ron seemed intrigued by it, disappearing to utilize the mirrors in the next section over as he tried it on.  As he looked around, he was struggling to find a mask that spoke to him.  Passing by elephants, ravens, badgers, zebras, peacocks…there were so many masks and yet Harry hadn’t been drawn to any of them.  At least not until he passed by a display case.

Laying on a black velvet pillow in the display case was a simple gold mask that almost looked like lace.  The light caught on it, and the shop owner seemed to take an interest in him.  “A unique piece.  It was made on a commission many years ago, but the man never arrived to pick it up.”  Removing the delicate mask from the pillow, the older woman offered it to him.  There was something about this mask that seemed to draw him in, and when he put it on it fit like a glove.  Ginny gasped as she saw him, and he rushed to a mirror.  Although the mask was not covering too much of his face, it hid his identity well, even covering the scar that marred his forehead.  His green eyes contrasted with the reflection of the gold, and for the first time in his life, he thought that he looked handsome.

“How much is it?”  He croaked out, removing the mask quickly but gently before reaching into his pocket for the spare change he carried.  Maybe he wouldn’t have anything left, but for some reason he didn’t care.  To his surprise, the woman simply shook her head.  “It was paid for long ago.  I would rather it go to you than sit here in this case.   Make sure that it is used well.”  Before he could protest her decision, she was gone, called away by a voice that sent a chill down his spine.

“Only the very best for my duddy-kins.”  He heard his aunt call out.  Panic rose in his chest, and he swiftly ducked behind the counter the woman had just occupied as Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley walked in.

“Now we’ll have to look through all the masks before we…oh hello Ginevra, Ronald.”  The contempt in her voice was clear, and Ginny barely even bothered to remember her manners before responding.  “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley.  A pleasure as always.”  She offered her hand to Dudley, who kissed her knuckles with a slight bow.  If there was one thing that the Dursley’s hated, it was that a family they considered beneath them were due such formalities.  Peeking through the corner of the glass, Harry watched his family interact with his friends.

Ron, knowing exactly how to annoy the Dursleys best and having returned victorious from his mission to try on his mask, reminded Harry’s dear aunt of his status.  “I do believe there is a Lord in there somewhere.  Of course, I’ll never be the Earl of Ottery St. Catchpole due to my brothers, but I am a young man of status nonetheless.  You fancy yourself a Lady Gin?”  The casual way he rubbed their noses in his privilege made Harry snicker, which caused Petunia to eye the counter.  Harry quickly retreated back from where he’d been watching the whole exchange and prayed his aunt wouldn’t notice.

“Yes well such a shame Harry couldn’t join us for the ball.  I’m sure he would’ve loved spending time with you both.  After all, you must have so much free time, being so low down on the hierarchy.”  The venom in Vernon’s voice was apparent, and if Ginny hadn’t been there, Ron likely would’ve have challenged the man to a duel for his insult.

“Yes…shame.  Well We have some masks to purchase but do have a lovely day.  Perhaps we’ll have the…pleasure to see you at the ball.”  Ginny made sure to exit from the side of the room opposite Harry’s position to allow him to sneak out.  His heart was still racing when he successfully made his escape.  He ran outside without waiting for Ron to pay for his and Ginny’s masks and waited by a nearby bench.  That had been too close of a call for comfort, and Harry was reminded just how stupid of a decision it had been to come in the first place.  There was no way that he could go to the ball, they would recognize him immediately!

He didn’t calm down until Ginny and Ron rejoined him, and even then, it took several minutes of reasoning with him to keep the dark-haired boy from going back to the inn, packing his things, and riding back home.  After Ginny told him for the fourth time that they wouldn’t recognize him dressed up and with a mask on, he finally relented to their arguments.  They grabbed a quick lunch from a nearby café of sandwiches that they could eat as they walked to the castle. 

Just outside the confines of the inner city, Harry noticed that he could see the building way before they were approaching it.  The ancient castle was on an island in the back corner of the capital, and he was once again shocked at the sheer size of the city.  Gates of wrought iron separated them from the sprawling grounds.  Walls and parapets of stone rose out of the ground like a work of art.  Each stone was placed with care, and Harry began wondering where on these grounds his parents had been.  Where had his father met his mother?  Where had she sat to study on days when the sun shone?  Everywhere he went, he could feel a warmth in his step; like his parents were somehow there with him.

“’ello Harry.”  A familiar voice greeted, and he was pleasantly surprised to find the giant man he had met the day before.  Hagrid had a large hound at his side and a chicken under his arm, which brought Harry back to the story he had been told about his father the day before.

“Hello Hagrid.”  The trio echoed, following the larger man as they crossed the lawn.  They arrived at the front doors with five minutes to go until their appointment with McGonagall.  “We’ll meet you for tea in Hogsmeade tomorrow if you like Hagrid.”  Ginny offered, petting Fang goodbye as they prepared to go inside.

“Tha’d be lovely.”  Hagrid agreed, his wide face lighting up with a smile accompanied by a deep, hearty laugh.  It was easy for Harry to see how his mother would have liked this man.  Saying their goodbyes, the three walked through the open wooden doors.  Inside, Harry nearly fell over from his wonder and awe.  The cathedral ceilings of the grand foyer were decorated with four sets of fabrics, one gold and red, one blue and bronze, one silver and green, and one black and yellow.

“How could you stand to be home schooled knowing that this place exists?”  He wondered aloud, his body moving forward as he looked hungrily over every nook and cranny.  To his left was another set of grand doors which seemed to lead to a gathering hall.  Ginny gestured for Harry to follow her up the stairs, and he discovered a whole new floor of rooms to explore.  He knew they had their appointment with McGonagall and he should hurry to not be tardy, but he also hoped they’d have enough time afterwards to look around even more.

The first thing he noticed about the woman they were meeting was her stern looking expression.  Her half-moon spectacles sat at the bridge of her nose, a string of pearl and jade connecting the two ends.  She was dressed in an emerald green gown that was accented with gold, and her greying hair was pulled back into a tight bun.  She was beautiful in a motherly way, and there was a twinkle in her eye that led him to believe that as perturbed as she was that they were late, she was also thrilled to meet him.

“Ahh Mr.s Potter and Weasley and Ms. Weasley.  It is customary to arrive on time when one is invited to tea.  Come sit as I prepare our drink.”  The older woman seemed to float, and the three younger adults followed without another word.  Her office was warm, with a fire burning in the huge fireplace.  Portraits of previous faculty and the King and Queen adorned the walls.  “Why are there no pictures of the Princess?”  Harry asked, wondering back to his passing joke about her being ugly.

“Princess Hermione insists on keeping as low a profile as possible.”  The way the woman spoke of the girl led Harry to believe she cared for the Princess like a daughter.  Ginny was the next to ask a question.  “So Professor McGonagall, how is it you came to know Lily and James?”

Sipping at her tea, the woman smiled as she responded.  “They were both in my house.”  Realizing Harry seemed confused, she elaborated, “Here at Hogwarts, there are four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin.  Each house is known for a certain trait its students tend to manifest.  Your parents were in Gryffindor, the house of bravery.  Lily…well she was probably the best student I’d ever had.  She was so hungry for knowledge and so committed to her education.  I was shocked when her son was not enrolled upon his eleventh birthday, but nevertheless I am thrilled to meet you now.”

“As for you Ms. Weasley, you are growing into quite a fine young woman, and to think that only a few years ago you were throwing spoons at me while I tried to teach you some form of decorum.”  Ginny’s face turned a shade of red that Harry could only compare to a ripened tomato, and he spent all his energy withholding his laughter.  Knowing Ginny since she was 11, Harry could easily envision her throwing things during one of her less demure tantrums.  Ron however, had not withheld his laughter, and he found Ginny’s foot kicking his leg.  To the girl’s credit, if he hadn’t been looking down, he wouldn’t have known Ginny had been the one to kick him.  When Ron yelped as Ginny’s boot hit his shin, glaring at his younger sister.  McGonagall turned her sharp gaze towards him, and he seemed to shrink in size.

“Mr. Weasley, I do believe you never engaged in such an education.  Perhaps you could learn something from your sister.”  There was a look of amusement in her eyes that Harry found reminded him of his mother.  Ron looked sheepishly down at his teacup and joined his sister’s crimson hue as Ginny shot him a victorious and knowing smirk.  The next question that McGonagall asked was sent squarely at Harry and took him completely by surprise.

“How is your mother doing?  I was so saddened to hear about James’s death.  Dragonpox took his parents as well when he was under my charge.”  Harry nearly choked on his tea as he breathed in the hot liquid.  “My mother…well…she’s…”  Feeling the hot sting of tears in his eyes, he placed the tea cup down on the desk and muttered his excuses.  Nearly running from the room, he went as far as his lungs could carry him before they began to burn.  How could she not know his mother was dead?  Did no one know?  It was common knowledge in his area.

When he finally stopped, he found himself in a vast library.  The burning in his chest was growing stronger, and he sat against a nearby bookshelf, putting his head in between his knees and drawing deep breaths.  This was the position that a young girl found him in, and he rushed to stand.  It wasn’t often that he found himself overwhelmed, after almost a decade of neglect, but the thought that people didn’t know his mother was dead had hit him hard.

“Are you alright?” A sweet voice asked.  Looking up from his position, the girl’s face, at first, was blurred by a bright ray of sunshine illuminating her hair.  Her beautiful chestnut curls bloomed wildly from her head, and his breath was taken away once again as he took in the rest of her.  Her brown eyes held a warmth that made him feel immediately at ease, and she was nibbling on her lips (perhaps a nervous habit or out of concern for him).  She wore a simple blue dress with gold thread woven throughout, and if it wasn’t for the fact she had spoken to him, he would’ve thought she was a dream.

It was at the point where her expression changed to one of apprehension that he realized he had just been staring at her.  “Oh…I’m…yeah I’ll be alright.”  He insisted, jumping up.  She laughed at his reaction, and he drank in the heavenly sound.

“Please allow me to properly introduce myself, I’m Harry Potter.”  He bowed slightly, taking her hand and placing a light kiss on her knuckles.  “And you are?”  The girl seemed slightly taken aback by his question, and she nibbled her lip again, a habit he couldn’t help but watch.

“You don’t know who I am?”  She responded, a smile and something else crossing her face.  Was that…relief?

“No, should I?”  Hoping that he hadn’t offended her, he clarified, “This is my first time in the city.”  She seemed to relax at that and returned her smile.

“I’m…ur…Susan…Bones…Yup Susan Bones.”  Harry smiled at her and bowed again. 

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day…”  He began, catching the corners of her lips turning up and a small gasp escaping her lips.

“You know Shakespeare?”  Her voice was impressed, and he was suddenly grateful for the book of sonnets that his mother used to read to him from.  It was one of the few books that he kept in his little library in his room.

“My mum…she used to read me his sonnets.  I don’t have many books to read, so I find myself going back to those.  It felt…appropriate, seeing as I’ve just met a beautiful young lady.  So tell me Susan, what brings you to Hogwarts?  I heard that all the students are on a break while the city prepares for the Princess’s ball.” 

Once again, a fleeting expression of apprehension crossed her face, and he wondered if he was asking too many questions.  “Well I guess…that is I’m one of the Princess’s ladies-in-waiting.  I…urm that is she, was looking for a book.  I was supposed to retrieve it for her.  Imagine my surprise when instead of a book I find a young man in distress.”  His cheeks burned as he remembered the situation, she had found him in.

“Roles have been reversed it seems.  I find my knight and you find your damsel in distress.  Now if you would be so kind, would you be able to help me find my way back to my friends.  I wasn’t paying attention.”  Holding her arm out to him, he laughed as she continued the joke.  Placing his hand on the crook of her elbow, they talked comfortably as she led him back into the labyrinth of the school.  They talked about anything and everything, including literature (notably the book on Greek mythology that Harry was currently reading), philosophy, history…she was the smartest person he’d ever talked to and he loved debating her.

“But the whole point of the riddle is that a secret is no longer a secret if its spoken, so can two people ever truly share a secret?”  She asked, a passion burning behind her eyes, and for a moment he was too distracted by them to respond.  Blushing, he quickly found himself again.

“You must not have kept very many secrets to think they are impossible to share.  For example, I’m not even supposed to be here, which is a secret between me and my two friends…and I suppose you now.  See, not even thirty minutes I’ve known you and we’re already co-conspirators.”  The woman on his arm had stopped abruptly, forcing him to stop as well.  Turning towards her, he raised an eyebrow in a questioning way.

“What if I have a secret too?”  There was something guarded in her voice, something he recognized from himself.  She was trying to ascertain if she could trust him.  He stepped closer to her, but stopped when he heard his friend’s voices calling out his name.  Backing away from him, she drew in a sharp breath.  “I have to go.  You’ve found your friends.  I…I shouldn’t be here either.  It was nice meeting you…Harry.”  The way his name fell from her lips made his stomach flip, and he knew at once that every Shakespearean sonnet in the world could not capture the way he felt for her.  He had never truly believed in true love, and yet here he was in the middle of this vast castle standing as if Cupid’s arrow had pierced his chest.

“Please…tell me I’ll see you again.  If you’re one of the princess’s ladies, then surely I’ll see you at the ball.  I’ll be wearing a gold mask, save a dance for me.”  The footsteps of his friends approached, and he could see panic rise in her chest.  Holding her hand still in his own, he searched her face.  If this was the last time he would see her, then he would never forget her beautiful face.

“I’ll be at the ball, but I cannot promise you anything more.”  At that, his attention was pulled away as Ron rounded the corner, calling his name in relief.  By the time he looked back where the girl had been, she was gone, leaving behind nothing but a warmth where her hand had been.

“Where in the bloody hell have you been?”  Ron chided, smacking Harry’s arm.  He could tell that Ginny was just as annoyed, but he didn’t really care.  All he could think about was the girl he’d met.

“Harry I had to apologize to McGonagall like fifty times about you just running out.  She didn’t mean to upset you.  It seems no one in the capital knows about your mum’s death…”  Ginny droned on for another minute or so, lecturing Harry about how rude he’d been.  He didn’t hear a single word however, so it wasn’t surprising when he interrupted her in the middle of a sentence.

“And another thing…”

“I think I met the girl I’m going to marry.”  He stated matter-of-factly, running his fingers through his disheveled hair.  His breathing had returned to normal, and despite a warm feeling in his cheeks, he was feeling much better.  Ron and Ginny stared at him in shock before demanding he tell them everything.  He recounted how the beautiful girl had found him in the library and shown him back the way to McGonagall’s office.

“I didn’t see anyone with you when I found you mate.  You really think this Susan girl is the one?  I mean weren’t you telling me the whole ride here how I couldn’t possibly be in love with Princess Hermione without knowing her well.  Not that I’m not happy for you, but this seems a bit out of character….ow.”  Ron rubbed his arm where his sister had punched him, earning one of here most cross glares.  “Just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn’t mean we all have.  I think its lovely you found someone Harry.  Besides Ronald, if he met a lady-in-waiting, maybe she can introduce you to the princess.”  Ginny seemed to have successfully turned Ron around on the idea, and they both seemed eager to meet Harry’s mystery girl at the end of the week.  Before long, the trio (happily distracted by Harry’s clandestine romance), arrived at a Gargoyle statue; hiding behind which, was a door that led up to the Headmaster’s office.

“I promise not to run out again.”  Harry promised, before ascending the lofty stairs to the office above.


	4. A Lion Awakens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets Professor Dumbledore who provides him some much needed advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again and only two days overdue! Wizard's Unite just dropped, so if anyone wants to add me on their, my friend code is 2518 1507 7441!

Dumbledore was…well it was hard to describe the man exactly.  Almost as if he was more of a wistful idea than a man.  His long white beard hung to his waist, decorated with some bobbles.  His half-moon spectacles sat on a slightly crooked nose, hiding blue eyes that twinkled with something like a knowing wisdom.  By Harry’s poor estimate he was about…1000 years old.  He wore these peculiar robes of blue and purple that cascaded to the floor.  On his head, he wore a pointed hat with stars embroidered in gold.  Overall, Harry thought he was the most brilliant person he’d ever seen.

“Ah young Mr. Potter, and the youngest of the Weasley children.  It is such a pleasure to see Arthur and Molly’s children grown.  I remember when you mother and father attended this very school back when I was still only a professor.  You have all grown into such lovely young men and women.”  He turned his back to them then, allowing Harry’s eyes to finally move around to take in his surroundings.  The office was large, and circular, with a mahogany desk in the center.  There were two staircases that led up into a loft – that from Harry’s point of view – looked like it held a library.  The walls were decorated with portraits of former headmasters, and on a perch near the window sat the largest bird Harry had ever seen.  Its brilliant red feathers seemed to glow in the light, as if they were made of silk.

“I’ve never seen a bird like this one, Professor.  What breed is it?”  He could hear himself asking, approaching the bird with caution, holding out his hand.  For a moment the bird eyed him as if he was likely to try and nip at him if he got to close, but to Harry’s surprise, the bird instead nuzzled into his touch.

“Fawkes is a…well he’s a very rare breed from Africa.  Not many like him in the world.  He is my life’s longest companion.  Now Mr. Potter, I do invite you to come sit with your friends as tea is being served.”  A short woman with wiry looking silver hair tied into a neat bun placed down a tray on the desk, bowing to the headmaster once before quietly exiting.

Ginny and Ron seemed to already be digging in to the small sandwiches served with tea, and Harry sat in the empty chair to their left.  There was a slightly uncomfortable silence that persisted until everyone’s tea had been poured.  Dumbledore’s gaze, while being warm, was strong.  “Ms. Weasley, I do believe congratulations are in order.  Molly mentioned in my most recent correspondence about your engagement.  Mr. Thomas is a kind and intelligent young man.  He briefly trained here before he was sent off in the navy.”

Ginny smiled kindly at the old man, glad to hear that he had a positive opinion of Dean.  He was the most important man in the country, next to the King, and getting his approval was high praise.

“I do have to apologize.”  The older man spoke again, and Harry tensed when his powerful eyes found his.  “I did not attend the funeral for your father.  James was…”  He paused, and Harry wondered if he saw a hint of tears forming in the man’s striking blue eyes.  “I was lucky to have known him, watched him grow.  You have so much of your father in you, but of course, you have your mother’s eyes.”

Harry drew his eyes away, forcing himself to look anywhere but up at the Headmaster.  He wondered if the man also didn’t know that his mother was dead…that he was orphaned in the one place he used to feel at home…that his aunt and uncle were so needlessly cruel.  But then again, how could he know…yet Harry got an eerie feeling that the man knew more than anyone believed.

“Thank you, sir.  I don’t remember my father much but being in this place…his old school especially…well it feels like I’m with him again.  Please, if you have any stories, I would love to hear them.”  The discomfort in the air seemed to dissipate with his request, and before any of them realized, hours had passed.  Laughs were shared during stories of James and his friends causing mischief, and his face hurt from smiling as he learned more and more about his parents.

“Lily was so sweet, and so hungry for knowledge.  She grew up poor, you know, earning a scholarship to be able to attend our fine institution.   Of course, your father was taken with her the moment that he laid eyes on her.  Just 11 and yet following her like a puppy dog.”  Harry’s laughter bubbled up to his lips, and he found himself laughing longingly.  Dumbledore smiled warmly at the boy, the twinkle in his eyes sparkling with delight.

“So it was love at first sight?”  Ginny asked, sighing at the romantic notion.  She straightened her spine as the older man laughed at her words.  The trio looked at the odd man, surprised at his response to Ginny’s question.

“Oh Merlin no.  Lily could not stand your father.  He was quite the troublesome boy you know.  He and your Godfather and two of their other friends earned rather an…unsavory reputation.  Luckily for him, and for you, James had matured into a dashing, intelligent, mature young man by the end of their schooling.  Once he got all of the tomfoolery out of his system, they were inseparable.  I’ve never seen two people more in love.”  He winked at Harry, earning a smirk from the boy.  “Sirius, however, seemed to never get to the growing up part.  No one was surprised when he took off to be an adventurer instead of settling down.”

Ron laughed at this, which caused Harry to roll his eyes.  The one time Ron had met Sirius, he had insisted that he was the coolest man alive and that he wanted to be just like him.  This, of course, had earned a smack upside the head from Ron’s mum.  Molly Weasley made it very clear that, ‘No son of hers was going to become some gallivanting womanizer.’ And how she had, ‘Raised him to be a part of more respectable society than that.’

Ginny smacked Ron’s arm, to the delight of the headmaster.  His soft chuckle was warm and inviting, and with every moment they spent in his presence, Harry found himself more and more taken in by the charms of the older man.

“Professor…”  Harry wondered aloud, thinking back on the story he had been told about his father and his trouble-maker friends.  “Who were my father’s other friends.  You said there were two others, besides Sirius.”  Frowning slightly to himself, Dumbledore took one last sip from his teacup before placing it gently back down on the desk.

“Yes…there were four.  The Marauders they called themselves.  Fancied themselves a band of misfits.  James was their leader, Sirius his second in command.  The other two were a painfully shy boy named Peter Pettigrew and a sickly boy named Remus Lupin.  He had a rare blood condition, Remus did, and he always tried to push the other three away.  He insisted that he was going to die imminently and that it would hurt them less if he kept his distance.”  A loud sigh escaped the older man’s lips, and Harry couldn’t determine if they were due to sadness or regret.

“What happened to him?”  Ron asked, placing his cup back on its saucer much less gracefully than the headmaster had done.

“I think…”  Dumbledore cleared his throat, avoiding looking directly at the young people sitting in front of him.  “When one has prepared their entire life to die, watching a friend die before you can be…challenging.  He taught here at Hogwarts for a time, but when your father died…it broke something in him.  Last I heard he was living in Bulgaria somewhere.  He writes every once in a while, but he’s worked it into his head that he should’ve died and not James.  He and your Godfather had quite the falling out when he left.”

Harry frowned, but nodded solemnly.  He had felt the same way when his mother had died.  Bargaining was a stage of grief, and it seemed that Remus had never come out of it.  Ron, seemingly having noticed his friend’s discomfort, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.  Only his best friend could’ve understood his reaction; he was so desperate for family, a sense of belonging.

“And the other boy…Peter?”  Harry asked, trying to contain the hopefulness in his voice.  He knew from the sad way Dumbledore’s eyes fell on him that he wasn’t going to get a good answer.

“Peter…well he made a few choices that your father strongly advised against.  They hadn’t spoken in many years when he had died.  I don’t think he would be a good person to contact…fell in with some wrong sorts.”  He had a million more questions, but something in Dumbledore’s voice told him that those would go best unsaid.

“Thank you for sharing this information with us headmaster.  You must be rather busy, particularly with so many nobles coming in for the Princess’s ball.  I must say though, I have been curious as to why our princess has chosen a masquerade theme.  Surely she has nothing to hide, rumours say she is quite lovely.”  Ginny had her pinky out as she sipped her tea, remembering all the etiquette training her mother had drilled her in.  Harry nearly laughed at the sight of his friend playing the part of a lady, but he held himself back.  Ron, naturally, didn’t hold it in, and he received a swift kick to his shin.  He just glared at her, yelping slightly as her boot made contact.

“It is busy, but I thoroughly enjoy the work.  As for your curiosity…if I may let you all in on a secret.”  He leaned in close to them, and all three followed his invitation to join him.  Now that they were all closer together, he whispered to them.  “She is going to be in disguise to properly determine her pick of suitor.  After the stunt that Lord Malfoy pulled last year with trying to get his son to smooth talk his way into her hand in marriage, she has been nervous about finding a husband who is saying all the right things to a princess.  She wants to have a connection with someone on a deeper basis than a lust for a crown.”

“Sounds perfect for me then!  I’ll just have to charm every girl I see and hope for the best.”  Ron responded.  There was a rogueish smile that graced his face that Harry could only assume Ron had learned from Sirius.  He was debating smacking the boy for his over-confidence, but found that he didn’t have to, as Ginny was already doing so.  Swiftly knocking the palm of her hand into the back of Ron’s head, he groaned at the violence.

“You best consider yourself lucky that mum wasn’t here to see that.  She’d have boxed your ears and sent you home.”  Straightening her skirt and smiling brightly at the headmaster, Ginny continued.  “I do apologize for my behavior.  I am normally much more ladylike, but I can’t allow my brother to make such…inappropriate comments towards our Princess.”

Dumbledore just chuckled, clearly amused at the youngest Weasley.  Growing up a girl in a house of all boys must have made it hard for her to maintain her decorum, although she could do so when needed.

“What about you Harry?  Do you hold no interest in the crown?”  When the man’s blue eyes met his green ones, he found himself swallowing down a blush.

“More interested in the ladies-in-waiting I’d say.”  He blurted out, unsure why he had said it at all.

“Oh, you’ve taken a shine to one of Princess Hermione’s ladies?  Which one might I ask?  I am very fond of all of those girls.”

“Her name is Susan…I just met her in the library.  I…well I got lost after our meeting with McGonagall and she was kind enough to guide me back here.  She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met, and I’m hoping to be able to ask for a dance at the ball.”  Harry felt small under the older man’s searching gaze, but never broke his smile.  Meeting Susan had felt…right in some way, like it was supposed to happen.  Ron nudged him with his elbow, giving him a playful smile.  Harry knew he was in for some teasing for how besotted he was, but it was worth it.

“Lady Susan, did she have a rather large mane of curly hair?” Harry seemed confused by the question, but nodded, nonetheless.  Certainly, Dumbledore knew what the ladies looked like. “A lovely girl…Susan.  She’s much more than meets the eye.  I’m sure that the opportunity will arise for you to…get to know each other better.”  There was something cryptic in the man’s smile, and Harry couldn’t help but feel like Dumbledore knew something more that he wasn’t saying.  But who was he to ask an old man for all his secrets.

“Well I have kept you all from your visit long enough.  I do believe that you and I will be seeing each other much more, should you begin to court our young miss…Susan.”  Once again, Dumbledore paused before saying her name, and Harry could feel his eyes narrow with suspicion.  There was definitely something more going on that he wasn’t aware of, however, they had clearly been dismissed and he knew that he wasn’t going to learn anything more.  “Oh and Mr. Potter.”  The crisp voice called, causing Harry to turn back just as he reached the door.  “Do not forget who you are.  Keep your head up, for you are a lion.  Don’t forget that and neither will the sheep.”  He didn’t know what the old man meant by that, but he nodded anyway.  How could he be a lion?

By the time they made their way back to the entrance of the castle from the Headmaster’s office, Harry had lost all hope that he would run into the beautiful girl again.  Sighing, he followed his friends to the massive wooden doors in the front of the school.  Rain pattered against the cobblestone path ahead of them, and Harry found himself smiling.  He normally hated the rain, but there was something beautiful about it in this place. 

Despite the seasonal chill, there was a warmth permeating the air, and Harry found himself launching forward into the downpour.  Ron called after him, but Ginny just joined him, her soft feminine laugh echoing behind him.  When she reached him, he offered his hand to her, which she readily took.  The two danced in the rain like lunatics, but Harry didn’t mind.  This was the most care-free he had felt in nearly 10 years.  Ron joined them shortly after, dancing along with them.  They continued to laugh and dance and run in the rain until the storm let up, all three wearing huge smiles and drenched through.

“Harry we really should get you some new glasses.”  Ginny commented as they walked back to gate that lead back to the main part of the city.  Ron nodded his head in agreement, snatching the boy’s glasses from where they had been sitting on the bridge of his nose.  Putting them on, Ron squinted a few times before loudly exclaiming, “Blimey Harry, you are blind!”

The walk back to the castle was filled with a new hopeful energy in Harry that brought up the morale of the whole group.  By the time they arrived back at their inn, the sun was in its last throws, casting dim yellow light over the dusk.  The sky itself looked like a painting, with a vivid blend of red, orange, yellow, and purple.  It was the most beautiful sky Harry had ever seen, but then everything was more beautiful in this city.

Dinner was quick, as they arrived near the end of the meal.  Ginny bid her goodnights and headed up before the boys.  When Ron had eaten seemingly all the food that Tom, the innkeeper, had left, they too retired to their room.  As they stripped off their still damp clothes and changed into their sleeping clothes, Harry broke their companionable silence.

“I’m glad I came Ron.  For so long I really thought that there was nothing for me outside of the Dursleys and taking care of my family home.  This city…its like a new world I never knew existed.  If they ground me forever when we return, it will have been worth it.  And who knows, maybe I can start saving now and in a few years time I’ll have enough to ask Lady Susan to marry me.”

Ron laughed at this statement, and Harry shot him a glare with no edge to it and threw a pillow at his messy red hair.

“I’m just saying mate, maybe see the woman again before you go off planning your wedding.  Of course, once I marry Princess Hermione, I’ll be sure to afford you every opportunity to hit on her ladies.”  Ron seemed so confident, Harry just chuckled at the boy, crossing the room.  On the desk there was a handful of parchment strips and a few quills and an ink pot.  Dipping the quill in the ink, Harry began to write two letters.

_Sirius Orion, Lord of House Black,_

_Godfather, it has been some time since my last letter, and I must apologize for the delay.  However, I am writing to you now because I have something exciting looming on the horizon.  Today, by the great wings of chance and luck, I have met the most wonderful girl.  Her name is Susan and she is a lady-in-waiting for the Princess.  Although there is some degree of mystery to her, she is beautiful and intelligent.  Mum would’ve loved her.  When next you come home, I will ensure to give you a full report._

_How is your work?  Being an ambassador must be very interesting.  Lord Weasley tells me that William is rather taken with a girl you met while stationed in France.  I think Lady Weasley is more concerned that you will turn Bill into a rake than return him with a respectable wife._

_I miss you.  Please write as soon as you get this.  I want to hear everything._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Harry_

When he finished his first letter, he placed the quill back into the ink pot, rolling up the piece of parchment tightly and wrapping a thin linen strip around it.  He hadn’t written Sirius in nearly six months, and had he not run out of space on the parchment, he likely would’ve sent him a tome.

The next letter that he was going to write was much more difficult to articulate, and Harry found himself struggling over how to begin it, but once his quill hit the parchment, everything came flowing out.

_Remus Lupin,_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health.  I have only an idea of your whereabouts and have to rely on an owl’s intelligence and ingenuity for the rest.  My name is Harry Potter, and I have recently learned that you were a friend of my late father.  Growing up has been difficult, with only fleeting memories of the man I’m told I so strongly resemble._

_I invite you to visit at my home, Godric’s Hollow.  My goal for some time has been gathering stories about my parents to feel closer to them, and who better to tell me those stories than his best friends.  Whatever happened between you and Sirius, whatever drove you away, know that I would love nothing more than to get to know you.  I am the age my father was when I was born and yet I find it nearly impossible to remember his smile, his voice, the way that he and my mother used to dance in the kitchen while she prepared breakfast._

_Please sir, if you loved my father, do not hide from his death.  It will not change that he is gone._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

Rolling up the second parchment as well, Harry quietly made his way to the door, noticing Ron was already softly snoring on the bed.  It only took a few moments for him to reach the owlery connected to the inn, and a few more moments to secure his letters to two of the owls available.  Watching them fly off into the night, the words that Dumbledore parted him with stuck in his head… “Keep your head up, for you are a lion.  Don’t forget that and neither will the sheep.”

It reminded him of what McGonagall had told him about the houses, how his parents had both been in Gryffindor; the house for the brave and bold.  If that was the legacy left to him by his parents, then how disappointed they would be to see him now.  That moment of reflection changed something in him.  He was a lion, and its time the sheep found out about it.


	5. Glasses and Gowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and his friends spend another day preparing for the ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. I have been super busy this past week, which is why this update is so late. To make up for it a little, I added an extra scene so its a little longer chapter. As always I am so thrilled by the response this story has gotten and it seriously means the world to me.

Harry was awoken the next day by the sunlight streaming in and Ron’s loud open mouth breathing.  Stretching and yawning, the boy searched for his glasses.  Holding them in his hands, he realized that Ginny and Ron were probably right; he did need new glasses.  The current glasses he wore had been his father’s and while they weren’t far off from what he needed to see; it was off enough that he often got headaches.  Not to mention all the places that were cracked or scratched from enduring years of being his cousin’s punching bag.

He placed his glasses on, running his hand through his morning hair, which only served to make it stand up even more.  His hair really was always awful, and every time his aunt tried to cut his hair to tame it, it came back stronger.  Gathering his clothes, he pulled on one of the borrowed pairs of trousers and the cotton shirt he’d worn the day before.  The satchel that carried his money sat on the desk, and he looked between the satchel and the glasses that still sat in his hand.  _If I buy new glasses, I’ll have barely anything left_ , he thought to himself.  It wouldn’t cost too much for a new pair of glasses, but Harry shook his head and put his glasses on.

His money would go into saving for marriage, he decided, smiling as he recalled the melodic laughter of the girl he’d met the day before.  The sun shining through her chestnut curls had been an almost divine experience.  He was alerted from his recollection by the other boy – now awake – throwing a pillow at his head.

“Oi whats that for?”  Harry whined, rubbing the back of his head where the pillow had hit.  It was all for show though, and Ron knew it, chuckling at his friend.

“You were thinking about your precious little lady and I thought I’d remind you how much of a hypocritical git you are.”  For effect, the red-head stuck his tongue out at Harry who only seemed to blush and frown at having been caught.

“I can’t help it mate.  She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.” 

“I don’t doubt that Harry, but you’ve met your ghastly aunt, my bratty sister and my mum.  Doesn’t really speak to that being a high bar to jump over.”  Harry scowled at that, preparing to fight back saying he had too met more women than that, but he realized Ron was right.  The only other woman he could add to the list was his own mother, but no one could ever be as perfect or wonderful as his mum.

“Yeah well that doesn’t make this girl any less perfect.”  Ron rolled his eyes at Harry’s dramatic declaration and started getting himself ready for the day as well.  The two men were ready to head down to breakfast only a short while later, where they were met by Ginny and a bloke around their age.  He was standing tall, his naval uniform in immaculate condition.  Not a thread or a hair was out of place.  His dark features were handsome, and he was clearly well built from his military training.  When the two men came down the stairs, the couple stood and the man stuck his hand towards Ron.

“Hello.  I’m Dean Thomas.  It’s a pleasure to meet you.  Ginny has spoken very highly of you.”  Ron accepted Dean’s hand, eyeing Ginny suspiciously as she burst into laughter.

“Don’t lie to him love.  He knows I only tell his most embarrassing stories.  This one is Harry, he saved my life when I was eleven and we’ve been the best of friends since them.  Gents, this is Dean.”  The way that Ginny smiled up at the man was hard to watch for Harry, being able to feel their love was almost too much.  Ron, naturally, took this time to take the mickey out on his sister.

“Only the embarrassing ones?  So does Thomas here know about how you sent four different owls to Harry on Valentine’s day one year?  Or how you used to run around the house in only your underclothes?  Or…”  Before Ron could say anything else, Ginny stomped on his foot, her heel digging in.  Ron yelped at the blow, but Ginny just glared at him, daring him to say anything else.  Grabbing him by his collar, Ginny made some excuse about needing to discuss something with her brother.  Ron looked to Harry in a panic, clearly asking him to save him from Ginny’s rage.  Harry just laughed and told him, “You did this to yourself mate.”

As Ginny dragged Ron off to properly take out her rage, Harry reached his hand out to shake Dean’s.  “A naval man as Ginny tells it.  How do you like it?  I considered it for a while.  Don’t think I could be so far from here.  Not that home is a good place to be, but its…home you know.”

Dean seemed to nod at Harry’s statement, and gestured for the two to sit.  Harry was incredibly grateful, his stomach loudly proclaiming how ready for breakfast it was.  Ron and Ginny joined them moments later, Ron looking a little worse for the wear.  The strict, angry expression the girl had been wearing melted away as she took her seat beside Dean.  His posture, which had been straight and rigid, seemed to relax at her presence as well.  Ron wore an expression of nervousness that informed Harry right away what Ginny had done.

“What did she threaten to tell your mum?”  Harry asked, offering some sweet bread to his friend.  Ron’s normally red face was pale, and his terrified blue eyes met Harry’s as he spoke.  “She said she’d tell mum about me, Fred and George sneaking off to that brothel for my coming of age.  I think if she ever found out about that she’d skin me alive.”

Harry did his best not to laugh at his friend because he knew he was right.  Molly Weasley was not a woman to be trifled with, and if she heard that her precious baby boy was out galivanting in such a disreputable place she was likely to never let him leave the house again.  Turning his attention back to Dean, Harry began making small talk with the mysterious and quiet man.  As the meal continued though, Dean seemed to open up more and Harry found that he did rather like Ginny’s fiancé. 

“Ginny tells me you like to read.  Never cared much for books myself, but when I was stationed at the palace for training, they insisted I learn.  Even saw the princess once or twice in the library.  Used to try to give me the slip when I was guarding her, but I’d always find her in the stacks.”  He drank from his goblet and took another bite before realizing that Ron was staring at him with a renewed interest.

“You mean you know the Princess?”   He asked, a twinkle in his eyes and his sister’s threats forgotten.  Harry hated pointing out that Ron was more likely in love with the idea of the princess than the person, but his friend seemed so happy.

“Yeah.  Princess Hermione was…well you expect all royalty to be snobbish and rude, but she is incredibly kind and gentle.  What can you expect with parents like hers though?  Queen Helen and King David are good people.  Not like those Malfoys.  I hear that if the Princess doesn’t find a husband at this ball, she has to marry the Malfoy heir.”  Ron seemed to blanche at this and he and Harry turned to each other, wearing similar looks of disgust.  Draco Malfoy was the very epitome of what one expects a royal to be; snobbish, entitled, and utterly intolerable.

“Well I change my mind now Ron, you’ve got to marry the poor girl.  It would be irresponsible of us to allow our sweet princess to marry that…ferret.”  The Malfoy family was just one step down from the monarchy, and they thrived on constantly reminding those below them.  Ginny particularly had been rather cruelly treated by Draco when they were children.

Dean patted Ginny’s hand, and the smiled at him appreciatively.  “Breakfast is just about done.”  He spoke, taking one last long sip of his juice.  “What are you all doing the rest of the day?  I know that Ginny here needs to pick up her dress from Madam Malkin’s.”

Harry just shrugged, deferring to Ron who seemed to still be thinking about the Princess (telling by the dopey expression on his face).  The dark-haired boy knew better than to say anything though, as he was just as in love with a girl he barely knew.  Nudging Ron with his elbow to alert him to the fact Dean was speaking to him, the boy jumped slightly, recovering quickly.  “We need to fetch Harry some new spectacles from Ollivander’s shop.”

Blushing in embarrassment, Harry turned to Ron and in hushed tones informed him sternly that he couldn’t afford new glasses.  He’d just deal with his old ones until he had more money.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry.  I’ll buy them and you can pay me back when you have the money.  Who knows when we’re going to be in the city again, and your glasses are falling apart.”  Ginny spoke in her tone that seemed to dare Harry to challenge him, and the boy swallowed his objections.  He realized that if he didn’t agree she’d go off and buy them anyway, so he might as well accompany her.

“Well alright then, but I will be paying you back.”  His voice was stern, and he watched Ginny roll her eyes before sending him a small nod.  The Weasleys were not rich by any means, and they were always so generous with him.  He felt a surge of happiness and gratefulness towards his friends.  They had dragged him to the city, and if they hadn’t, he wouldn’t have met his beautiful mysterious girl.

When they were done with breakfast, the four set out on their adventures for the day.  Dean, Ron, and Harry ogled the stables, noting that they were breeding some of the fastest horses in the country.  Ginny scowled at the boys looked, knowing that her mother would never let her ride horses like the men.  They also stopped briefly into the apothecary to pick up some herbs and medicines for Ron and Ginny’s mum.  The last place they stopped before lunch was Ollivanders, which Harry had not expected.

The walls of the store were filled witch boxes upon boxes of glasses of every variety.  He had everything from opera glass to common spectacles to glasses that magnified what you were looking at.  Harry was mystified as he walked in, which was not offset by the appearance of a very old man in well-worn clothes.  His white hair was long on the sides, forming into distinguished sideburns.  He looked a little odd, a spirit of youth surrounding the otherwise fragile looking older gentleman.

“Hello, my name is Garrick Ollivander.”  He introduced himself, bowing slightly at the group.  Each of them in turn bowed – except for Ginny who curtseyed – and introduced themselves.

“My name is Ronald Weasley, sixth son of the Earl of Ottery St. Catchpole.  This is my little sister Ginevra…”  She frowned as Ron used her full name, but kept from commenting.  “Her fiancé Dean Thomas, a midshipman in his Majesty’s navy.”  Dean nodded his head slightly, smiling at his introduction.  “And this is Harry Potter, urm…”  Ron stumbled over Harry’s introduction, as the two men had never really gotten around to figuring out his rank.  His father was some sort of nobility, but his Aunt and Uncle never really talked about him, so Harry didn’t know.

“Just Harry Potter will do.”  He relieved Ron, nodding his head at the man.  Ollivander’s eyes stared at him intensely, and Harry realized he wasn’t looking at him, but rather at his glasses.

“I would recognize those spectacles anywhere Mr. Potter.  It feels as if it was just yesterday when a similarly jet black haired young man came to me for his first pair.  I remember every pair of glasses I’ve ever sold.  Each was hand made by me, as was your father’s.  I carved the frame out of a beautiful mahogany branch.  The glass was cultivated on the beach, made by lightning striking the sand.  Bit of rough shape they’re in, I must say my boy.”  Harry looked stunned at the man before sheepishly shrugging.  They were in terrible shape, but that was more due to his cousin’s fists than his own carelessness.  He wanted to keep them even after he got a new pair…considering they were one of the few things he had left from his father.

“You remember every pair of glasses you’ve ever made?  That seems unlikely.”  Ron offered, probably not realizing how rude that sounded.  Ginny just rolled her eyes at the boy and looked like she was about to apologize again for her brother.

“Your older brother Percy has reading glasses doesn’t he?”  Ollivander began, the look in his eyes showing that he already knew the answer, but he loved playing this game.

“Oh…urm…yeah he does.”  Ron supplied, clearly taken off-guard by the fact that the man knew that.

“Yes.  He got a replacement pair when he moved to the capitol about – what was it now – ten years ago?”  Waiting for confirmation from either of the red-heads in the shop, he received a small bewildered nod from Ginny, who seemed rather intrigued by what was happening.  “He got a beautiful pair of spectacles.  Silver.  He insisted on the half-moon shape that Dumbledore popularized.  Those lenses were made of blown glass, with a slight yellow tint to them.”  Ron joined Dean and Harry who were staring at the man in amazement.

“Bloody hell.”  Ron remarked, which earned a satisfied smile from the old man.  The man began to lead them towards the back, where the stacks of boxes grew even higher.  There was a lounge of sorts, with about a dozen different chairs of all colors, sizes and shapes.  Hanging on the wall was at least three dozen small mirrors, decorating every spot of free space on the wall.  “Wait here Mr. Potter as I fetch some options.”

Harry sat down on a ratty looking gold chair was red engravings.  Dean and Ginny sat on a bench that was close to a hallway that Harry assumed led to a back office.  Ron, seemingly displeased with the remaining options, ended up in a pink chair with ruffled fabric.  “Matches your dress clothes.”  Ginny remarked, and Ron looked as if he was going to be sick.  Harry had only seen a rogue sleeve of the boy’s outfit for the ball, but it had not been in fashion for at least a few decades.

“Right you are Mr. Potter.”  Ollivander remarked, suddenly reappearing in the room as if he had never left.  In his hand, he held three different sets of glasses. Pulling out the first, they were gold with thick blue-tinted glass.  Ron and Dean gave him downturned smiles, as if they were finding the words to politely say that they looked awful.  Ginny just laughed.

The second pair he tried on were made of a thick wood, the clear lens uncovered on the bottoms.  While an improvement from the first pair, they still didn’t seem to be right.  The third pair, however…the third pair fit his face like they were made specifically for him.  Black tinted metal sat in a rounded frame around glass that was clear as day.  Harry’s green eyes looked out into the parlor as if he was seeing the world for the first time.  He had no idea Ron had that many freckles or that Ginny had a bit of gold in her eyes.  Jumping up and laughing manically, Harry felt like a new man.

“Curious…”  The old man remarked, stalling Harry’s strange celebration mid prance.  Clearing his throat and regaining his composure, Harry turned back to the glassmaker.

“What’s curious?”  He asked, still trying to catch a glimpse of his reflection in one of the dozens of mirrors that adorned the wall.

“Oh nothing.  Those frames just remind me of a boy I once knew.  Now on the matter of payment…”  The four followed the man back to the front, and Ginny placed the necessary coins for the new pair on the counter, earning a gracious nod from Harry who mumbled his insistence that he would pay her back when he had the money.

Stepping out of Ollivander’s shop for the first time with his new glasses (his father’s old spectacles securely in his pocket), was a beautiful experience for Harry.  He thought fondly back on their entrance into the city only a few days prior and couldn’t wipe the goofy grin off of his face as he took in the sights before him again.

“Stop gawking mate.  I’m starving.  Fancy a bite at the Leaky?  We need to drop off Ginny’s shopping anyway.”  Ron placed an arm around Harry’s neck, walking in step next to his friend.  Looking back towards Dean, he continued, “Unless you want to carry all that around all day.”

Dean laughed and shook his head, turning to Ginny and muttering something about how its his pleasure to help his lady.  Ron turned back to Harry and made a faux gagging motion before pulling himself and Harry along towards their inn.  Lunch passed very similarly to breakfast with Ginny threatening Ron and Harry deepening his budding friendship with Dean.

After lunch, they walked to Madam Malkin’s to collect Ginny’s dress for the ball that was taking place in two days’ time.  Harry thought it was rather pretty, a glowing gold ball gown style dress that had red floral lace appliques spreading from her waist like a garden of flowers.  Their day had been too good, which naturally meant that something was bound to come along and ruin it.  That something came in the form of an impressively blond young aristocrat.

“Weasley, I’m surprised your family can afford such a luxurious gown.  What did your father do?  Sell off the family house?”  Draco Malfoy stood at the entrance to the fitting area, and Harry watched Ginny cautiously as the girl started slowly turning a dark shade of red.  Ginny was such a strong person, but there was something about the Malfoy heir that shut her down.  Making her excuses about needing to go speak with the Madam regarding her gown, she disappeared into the next room.

Dean stared after her, briefly flickering his glance towards Malfoy.  He seemed to be determining whether going after Ginny or punching Malfoy in the face was a better use of his time.  Harry assumed he had made his decision when he followed after Ginny without so much as another glance at Malfoy.  He was immaculately dressed, with his primly slicked back hair contrasting Harry’s own messy jet-black mop. 

“Oh, Potter…I didn’t know that poor orphans were invited to the ball.  I guess your father’s title can get you far still, despite the fact he’s been dead…what is it 15 years now?”  Harry curled his fingers into a fist at his side, but he refused to engage with the pompous git.  When Draco could sense that he wouldn’t be getting the response from Harry, he moved on to Ron.  Ron’s expression was one of blind rage, and Harry watched his friend carefully, preparing to stop him if there was a move towards fisticuffs.  “Weasel.  Trying to catch yourself a bride at the ball?  I’m sure that there’s a scullery maid somewhere who’d have low enough standards for you.”

Seeing the movement in Ron’s torso before Malfoy did, Harry managed to grab Ron’s arm and hold him back.  Malfoy’s smug smirk only grew, as he picked some non-existent lint off his coat.  Harry’s green eyes connected with Draco’s grey ones, and his warning went unspoken.  Malfoy may have been taller than him, but he was much stronger.  Although the boy hid his concern well, he could see the boy’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.  “All sorted Ginny?”  Harry called, keeping his grip on Ron tight.

“Yes.  We’re all done.”  Ginny responded, sheepishly holding onto Dean’s arm as a physical barrier between herself and Malfoy.  Sneering at the group of them, he mumbled about not having the time to waste on inferior persons before walking away.  Harry didn’t realize he had been holding in his breath until it released when Draco stepped out like a hissing fire.

“Has he somehow gotten more intolerable since we were children.  I know I haven’t seen him in years but Merlin.”  Ron spoke, shaking off Harry’s hand as he shuffled out into the bustling streets of Diagon Alley.

“Let’s not talk about him anymore.”  Ginny chided, sounding more like herself than she had in the shop.  “Come along Harry.  We haven’t taken you to Flourish and Blott’s yet.”  The moment that Harry stepped foot in the book shop, he had forgotten all about Malfoy and he reprehensible superiority complex.  It wasn’t that Harry was necessarily in love with books, but they allowed him to escape the sadness of his life.  As he ran his fingers along the spines of the stacks, his mind went back to Susan and Hogwarts and how his mother must’ve loved this place.  For all he knew, Harry could have been in this place for days, but when Ron finally pulled him away – once again complaining about how hungry he was – he was holding his newly purchased _The Winter’s Tale_.

Hugging the book to his chest, he recalled Susan’s face when she had recommended it to him.

_“I’m currently reading a book on Greek Mythology.  I just got to the birth of Hermione.  I wonder if the princess knows her namesake.”  This caused Susan to giggle, which confused Harry because he didn’t think it was particularly funny._

_“What’s so funny?”  He asked, looking over at her in time for her to brush a stray curl behind her ear.  He thought it was such a delicate action, and he longed to reach out and touch her._

_“You assume that I…that the Princess is named after Hermione from Sparta.”  Her voice was rich with emotion, and Harry looked at her; challenging her to explain.  “I think the Princess is named after Queen Hermione in_ The Winter’s Tale _.  She’s wise and kind and persists through everything.  Such a tragedy befalls her at the hands of men though.”_

 _“_ The Winter’s Tale _?”  Harry asked, and she smiled kindly at him._

_“Shakespeare, perhaps you should read more than his sonnets.”  She responds, resolutely.  There was a glint of something in her eyes, and Harry couldn’t help the nagging feeling that arose once again that she was keeping something from him._

_“Susan?”  He asked, watching as her honeyed eyes connected with his, and he almost didn’t have the heart to ask her.  “Why do I feel like there’s something you’re not being honest about?”  She looked away from him, and his heart ached from the loss of her.  She instead stared at her hands, taking a deep breath before speaking again._

_“What a fool honesty is.”  She quoted, and Harry just stared at her.  “Its from_ The Winter’s Tale _.  Maybe if you read it, then I’ll tell you.”  Harry wanted nothing more than to press her, to know what it was she was hiding, but looking at her in that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care._

The rest of the day was quick, with dinner passing in a blink of his eye, his eagerness to read his book overwhelming his need to eat.  The moment it was polite enough to do so, he excused himself from his half-eaten dinner and bounded up the stairs.  By the time sleep had come, he was hunched over a candle, devouring the play.  He didn’t know when he went to sleep, but the book lay open in front of him, his fingers grazing lightly the words she had quoted to him so delicately…

What a fool honesty is.


	6. A Day at the Races

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ron find a fun way to spend their last day before the Princess's ball.

It wasn’t the sun that awoke Harry on the last day before the ball, but instead droplets of rain falling on his face.  There was something about the rain that had always set him on edge.  Probably because rain meant spending time indoors with his aunt and uncle.  His cousin was often more violent towards him on rainy days as well.  Stretching out, Harry noticed that his back was aching.  Looking around, it took him a moment to realize that he was not in the bed but was instead still sat at the desk beneath the window, which was open; allowing the rain to drip into the room.  His candle that he had been reading by had long burnt out, and he scrambled to remove his book from the dripping of the rain.

The ink on the page that he had been reading was running, and it was all he could do not to shout.  He pulled the book tightly to his chest, cursing at himself before pulling the window closed it sharply.  “I was wondering when you were going to get up mate.”  Ron greeted, having already dressed for the day.  Harry just grunted in his direction and rubbed the ache out of his neck.  Sleeping while hunched over a desk had not been a good idea.  Approaching his friend, Ron grabbed the book in his hands.  “A Winter’s Tale?  Isn’t this the one you were going all gooey for in the book shop yesterday?”  Harry snatched it back from his friend, careful not to damage the soggy binding from being under the rain.

“Yeah.  Its brilliant!  I’ve read Shakespeare before, but this play is just…”  His face warmed as he caught a glimpse of the smirk on Ron’s face and he realized that Ron was taking the piss.  “Well anyway…is there still breakfast?  I’m famished.”  If his stomach hadn’t been loudly complaining to him how hungry he was, he might’ve skipped the meal altogether to finish the play.  It was certainly well-written, but it also seemed like it might hold the secret behind Susan’s mystery.  Dressing quickly and running some water through his hair, he looked to Ron.  “Ready?”

Ron seemed to light up as he always did when food was imminent.  There was something comforting about the consistency of the Weasley appetite.  When they arrived downstairs, Ginny and Dean were gone, with a note left that they had gone to spend the morning with his family.

He and Ron ate in a companionable silence, and Harry even ate more than he normally did due to having skipped most of his dinner the night before.  “Whatta wan do?”  Ron asked, his mouth full of some pastry that had been sitting in front of him.  Harry just rolled his eyes at his friend and assumed that he had meant to ask what he wanted to do that day. 

“Well it’s the last day before the ball, and I did promise Hagrid we’d have tea with him before we left.  I figured we could owl him and make a plan for afternoon tea.  As for now…”  He put his most mischievous smile on and glanced at his red-headed friend.  “Want to go to the racetracks?”  Ginny would skin them alive if she found out they went to the tracks without her, but Harry couldn’t help but want to go.  His father had been a fantastic racer, even winning some tourneys when he was in school.  Lily had always told him his father had dreamed of Harry following in his footsteps.

Ron swallowed the rest of his pastry down like a chipmunk and beamed at Harry.  “Bloody hell that’d be brilliant!  Gin can never find out though.  She’s downright scary that one.”  Harry laughed at Ron’s frown and toasted him with his jug of ale.  He didn’t have any money to bet with, but he loved just watching the horses run.

When they had eaten their fill at breakfast, Harry borrowed an owl to send a message to Hagrid inviting him to tea at Madam Puddifoot’s in Hogsmeade.  It was in the section of the city closest to Hogwarts, and Harry’s skin crackled with excitement at the thought of being near the old castle again.  As they got ready, they waited for a response, and were unsurprised when the owl returned only five minutes later.

“Hagrid says he can’t meet for tea today, but that we will see him at the ball tomorrow.  He also wishes us fun at the races, says it should be very interesting.”  Harry re-read the letter again, and shrugged off his curiosity at Hagrid’s peculiar phrasing.

“We best be off before all the good horses have run themselves ragged.”  The ride to the racetrack was not quick, taking them nearly a half hour to trudge through the winding streets, but when they arrived, Harry couldn’t peel the wide smile off his face.  The rain had slowed and then stopped as they went along, but their horses’ hooves remained covered in mud.  Of course, they could smell it before they heard or saw it.  Finding seats wasn’t too difficult, as the rain from the early morning was still drying off.   They managed to get a rather good set of seats to the right of the box reserved for the royal family.

“I heard that the King and Queen love the races, but the Princess hates them.  People say her chair has been empty since she was six.  Don’t reckon they’ll show up today though, what with the ball being tomorrow and all.”  Ron chuckled at his shared bit of gossip with Harry, and Harry shook his head.  The more he learned about this Princess, the more he was certain that Ron and she would have nothing in common.  After all, he loved horse racing more than anything else in the world.

The first few races were thrilling, with the horses staying neck and neck.  The speed gave Harry a thrill, and he nearly screamed in delight as the passing mares caused his hair to move back from his face.  He had felt the rush of riding the wind with a horse before, and it was intoxicating.  The third race left a sour note in his day as he watched Malfoy, pompous git that he was, climb onto a beautiful pale white Arabian horse.  Bastard had the nicest horse in the world courtesy of his daddy’s money.  It boiled Harry’s blood knowing that prick would be King someday if the Princess didn’t find a husband.  He couldn’t imagine what would be a worse fate, being his subject or being his wife.

“Shite!”  Ron called out suddenly, and Harry was broken out of his angry staring at Malfoy.  His arm was pulled down, and soon he was crawling on the wooden boards that made up the stands.

“What are you doing?”  Harry yelled, finding Ron clamping his hand over his mouth.  He started to angrily mutter into the boy’s palm, but Ron just shushed him.

“Your bloody family is here.  You said those buggers don’t like the races.”  They moved slowly to glance over the top of the stand.  Just as Ron said, his Aunt, Uncle, and cousin were placing themselves in the front row in the stands opposite where they were sitting.

“They don’t like the races.  What are they doing here?”  Before either boy could hypothesize an answer, trumpets blared nearby.  Looking at each other, Ron gulped as Harry tried to wordlessly ask him what was going on.  Ron didn’t need to answer though, as the crowd rose.  There, arriving on horseback, were the King and Queen.

Harry had never seen the royals before, and it was all he could do not to openly stare.  King David was a tall man, with a very slim build.  He wore an outfit in bright red, with gold and white thread embroidering the edges.  On his head he wore a simple band of gold, a smaller crown that Harry supposed he used in less formal situations.  A trimmed beard of brown and grey blocked out the bottom half of his face, and his bright blue eyes shone as they glanced over the crowd.

Queen Helen next to him nearly took Harry’s breath away.  Her curly blonde hair glinted in the light, as tones of browns and golds danced throughout the ringlets.  For some strange reason, looking at the Queen made him think of Susan, and how her curly hair had glinted in the sunlight.  Queen Helen wore a similar traveling crown as her husband, but hers was decorated with elegant jewels.  Her chocolate brown eyes joined her husbands, and he could see the wrinkles around her eyes move as she smiled at her love.  Her gown was a similar red tone, with matching white and gold embroidery, but hers extended to the bodice of her gown as well.  She wore a simple floral-patterned gold necklace, and Harry struggled to push aside the thought that she reminded him so much of Susan.

“We do not wish to interrupt the festivities.”  The King joked, as he dismounted his horse.  He then made his way around to where his wife would dismount and offered his hand.  She moved so gracefully that she seemed as if she was floating off the creature.

“My husband and I wanted to thank you very much for attending both this tourney and the Birthday Ball we are throwing for our beautiful daughter.”  Queen Helen’s voice was warm and kind and seemed to echo without much effort.  She certainly was not raising her voice and yet every person in the amphitheater could hear her.

“I would like to personally sponsor this last race.  500 galleons to whoever can prove to be the fastest rider.”  Harry’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor as he heard the King speak.  He looked over to Ron, who seemed to nearly faint at the sum.  500 galleons would be enough to propose to Susan!  Harry thought, instantly grabbing Ron’s arm and moving against the crowd out of the stands. 

“I need to be in that race, but if the Dursleys see me they’ll murder me.”  Harry rubbed his temples, trying desperately to figure out a solution.  Ron’s eyes darted around, eagerness on his face.  Suddenly, his eyes stopped and before Harry could follow his line of sight, Ron was gone.  He lost track of his friend in the crowd, which was a rather difficult thing to do considering Ron’s bright red hair.  When he returned however, Harry couldn’t help but sneer at what he was holding.  The chain mail cap would cover all of his tell-tale hair, as well as most of the bottom of his face.  There was a slot for his eyes, nose, and mouth, but he was unsure that it would be enough to prevent his family from noticing him.

Ron seemed to see the leeriness in Harry’s eyes because he placed a hand of support on his back.  “Listen mate, your hair is your most distinguishable feature.  If we cover that they’re never gonna be close enough to see your eyes.  You have to do this.  I’ve seen you ride, you’re brilliant.  If it makes you feel any better, I’ll distract the Dursleys for you while you’re racing.  I wouldn’t have a chance against you or Malfoy either.  I bloody hate to say it but that blighter is swift.”  Harry couldn’t help but hug Ron, mumbling his gratitudes to his friend.  He really was the best mate that anyone could ask for.  Donning the heavy metal cap, Harry made his way over to the registration tent for the next race.  It was much more crowded than before after the announcement of the King’s wager.  He had to wait in line for five or ten minutes before a rather grumpy looking clerk called him forward.

“I’ll need your name and your horse’s name.”  The older man nearly growled.  Harry couldn’t really blame him for being unpleasant, as the crowd was rather loud and somewhat boisterous.

“Urmm…I’m Neville Longbottom and my horse’s name is urm…Witherwings.”  He managed to lie not too obviously.  The man looked at him with a bored stare before handing him a piece of parchment with a number.  A wave of his hand dismissed Harry, and he found his way back to where Ron was standing with Buckbeak.

“So um if you are around any racing officials, I told them my name was Neville Longbottom.”  Ron laughed at Harry’s obvious lie, and recalled the slightly pudgy boy that they had sometimes played with as children.

“Mum says he’s some big shot now, apprenticing under one of the Hogwarts professors.  Even got married last spring.”  Harry just shrugged his shoulders, moving slowly towards the race track.  He did love to ride, but he hadn’t ridden Buckbeak for speed in months; not that the beautiful horse wasn’t up to the task.  Patting the grey and white horse’s mane, he thought back to when his Godfather had been visiting before his mother died, and he had taught him to ride.

_“Your father taught me to ride.”  Sirius looked out into the distance, the way he always did when James was brought up.  As if Harry wouldn’t notice the tears if he was turned away.  “Of course I knew how to ride the proper way, all show and no bite.  But your father…your father showed me what it meant to fly.  To ride a horse like it would sprout wings and take you far away from everything.  And more than anything, he wanted you to fly, to feel that freedom.  Every time you ride, think of him; feel him in the wind.”_

“Are you ready to fly boy?”  Harry asked the horse, who seemed to almost understand him.  His whinny was clear though, he was ready to ride.  Ron departed in the direction of the Dursleys, and Harry said a quick prayer that he would be successful in distracting his horrible relatives.  That 500 galleons would mean that he could finally escape from his aunt and uncle, that he could properly court Susan…it would change everything.

There were twenty-seven racers total, and he was right in the middle.  He only recognized a few faces, Malfoy’s smug sneer most prominently.  To his left a few spaces down was a Bulgarian count who had come to try to win the Princess’s hand.  Harry had been watching him all day, and knew that he was one to watch for.  Trumpets sounded as a signal for the riders to take their marks, and Harry looked over to the royal seats.  The King and Queen seemed to be watching intently, holding each other’s hands and leaned into each other.  Once again, Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something familiar about them.  He was broken out of his trance however, by the second blaring of trumpets.  The race was about to begin.

* * *

 

The sound of impatient hooves stamping into the muddy fair ground was the only thing Harry could hear.  He cleared his head and remembered what Sirius had told him.

_“The first step is to get in sync with your horse.  You should be moving as one, breathing as one.  Never watch your opponents.  It is only you and your horse; no one else exists.”_

Carefully clinging to Buckbeak’s reigns, he placed a hand on the creature’s long neck.  Even this far from its heart, he could feel the thunderous pounding.  He breathed in and out to the rhythm.

_“Step two is to crouch low to the beast.  Your belly should be nearly touching his back.”_

Pulling himself closer to the saddle, Harry waited patiently for the final trumpet to blare.  Step three was the most important.  As the crisp brass notes echoed throughout the air, Harry opened his eyes.

_“Step three…fly.”_

Buckbeak’s hooves carried him so fast that his breath was almost stolen from his body.  The air was hazy from the morning rain, but the wind felt delicious against his skin.  Watching the curves pass that were created from the previous races, he rounded the first turn.  He didn’t know how he was doing or where everyone else was.  He trusted his horse to take him where he needed to go.  The second turn came and went, and Harry was only vaguely aware of the cheering crowd.  Some shouted the names of specific riders, others just screamed; but Harry could only hear the pounding of his horse’s hooves beneath him.  The third turn flew by, and he could see the finish line.

His hearing came back and he blinked away his focus as he crossed the final line drawn in the dirt.  Scores of people cheered, and he was suddenly surrounded by people.  Ron was the only face he could make out of the approaching crowd, and he scrambled to make his way over to him.

“You did it mate!  500 galleons!  Malfoy looks like a whining child.  Bloody git actually threw his helmet.  That was brilliant!”  Harry just took a moment to breathe, the smile on his face nearly hurting from the pressure.

“I did it?”  He asked, watching as Ron nodded his head fervently.  “I did it!  You know what this means Ron?”

“Yeah you’re bloody rich now!”

“No…well yes, but I can ask to court Susan.  At the ball tomorrow!  I’ll be able to move away from my awful family.”  His celebration was interrupted by a tall kingsguard who approached him.

“Pardon me, but the King has asked for an audience with his champion.”  The man seemed about Harry’s age, and his Irish brogue laid heavily on his words.  Ron shot him an incredibly jealous look but took Buckbeak’s reigns from him anyway.

“I’ll meet you by the entrance when you’re done.”  Although Ron looked a bit put out at having to leave Harry to meet the monarchs, there was nothing that could be done.

Following the man, he trudged through the mostly dried mud of the fields to arrive in the royal box.  The King and Queen were still seated as he had seen them before the race, but rose as he approached.  From the brief time he had spent in etiquette lesson with Lady Weasley, he knew that he was to bow to the King and Queen and offer to kiss her hand.  With the necessary formalities out of the way, he waited for the King to speak first.

“That was a rather impressive ride young man.”  He complimented, and Harry found himself blushing under the weight of the comment.  He had never been this close to royalty before.

“Thank you, your majesty, but the credit must go to my horse.  After all, a rider is only as good as what he rides.”  The Queen laughed at his statement, and he could feel the nervousness that was consuming him start to slip away.

“I must say I agree with that sentiment.  You registered under the name Longbottom, strange though that I find you are not the Neville Longbottom we know.  I’m sure there must be some reason for this deceit.”  Harry sputtered at her statement, trying desperately to come up with a cover story.  However, before he could, she held up her hand to stop him.  “I do not mean to pry.  Every man deserves his secrets after all.  I do believe there is now the subject of a reward.”  Nodding to her husband, he gestured for the same man who had escorted him here.

“Seamus, do give the man his gold.”  The weight of the brown pouch he was handed startled him.  Overall the galleons probably weighed nearly ten pounds.

“I am very grateful for your majesties’ kindness.  This money means a great deal to me.”  Thinking of Susan again, and her beautiful honey-brown eyes, he couldn’t help the bright smile that broke out on his face.

“May this money serve you well then.  We do hope to see you at the Ball tomorrow.  Any man who is so humble as to thank his horse for a race like that is welcome in my palace.”  Harry just blinked rapidly at the man, trying desperately to comprehend the fact the King himself had just personally asked him to attend the ball.  Finding words failing him, he just nodded and bowed again, dismissing himself.

When he arrived back at the front gate, Ron was standing there waiting with both Buckbeak and Ron’s horse Hercules.  The ride back to the Leaky mostly consisted of Ron asking for the details of Harry’s meeting with the King and Harry vaguely freaking out over having just met the monarchs. 

His mind kept drifting back to Susan, and his heart beat faster in his chest as he thought of her and her beautiful chestnut curls.

“Tomorrow…everything will change tomorrow.”  He promised himself, not understanding how right he was.


	7. Something Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the Princess's Ball arrives and Harry and his friends prepare for their lives to change, but what will Harry discover about himself and the girl he loves in the meantime?

The air in the town center seemed to betray the excitement of the people.  The day of Princess Hermione’s ball had arrived, and the streets were now full to capacity with people.  When they ventured out after breakfast to pick up the last touches for their ball looks, Harry found that he could barely breath while moving through the shops.  Dean had gone back to do a rotation of guard duty at the palace, but assured them that he would be at the ball when they arrived. 

They didn’t have any more near misses with the Dursley’s, owed to the fact that the streets were too crowded, and if Harry did see Petunia’s extraordinarily long neck or Vernon’s pudgy mustachioed face, he had time to duck into the mass.  Ginny insisted that they arrive back at the Leaky Cauldron in time for lunch, saying that Luna was going to come and get ready with her.  This led to Harry meeting Luna Lovegood and her husband Rolf Scamander.

“You are surrounded by wrackspurts you know.”  Luna told him, barely a minute after the two had been introduced.  Ron just shot Harry a sort of smug ‘I-told-you-so’ smirk and shook Rolf’s hand.

“Urm…thanks.”  Harry responded.  Its not that he was necessarily uncomfortable around Luna, but there was an ethereal quality to her that made her seem otherworldly.  Rolf then introduced himself to Harry, and he was rather shocked at how calm and collected the man was.  He was a good complement to the bewitching woman.  They sat around one of the tables in the dining room, and began to play with the chess board that was being neglected by its previous players.  Harry was rubbish at the game, so he refused to play after his first defeat, but Ron and Rolf seemed to be pretty evenly matched.

“So what is it you do Scamander?”  Harry offered, trying to break the air of discomfort that had settled around the men as the girls traipsed off to Ginny’s quarters to get ready for their evening.  Ginny had to threaten Harry with physical violence earlier to agree for her to assist him in getting ready for the ball, and he was not looking forward to being poked and prodded.

“Research.  I am studying animals abroad.  We have been in Africa for some time.  Luna wanted to return though, before she gets too far along.”  Ron and Harry both stared at the man, but they were clearly caught off guard by different parts of his statement.

“You let her go with you to research abroad?!”  Ron asked, as at the same time Harry went, “Too far along in what?”

Rolf’s cheeks burned, and the red-headed man fussed with the neatly trimmed mound of curls on the top of his head.  “Oh urm…I wasn’t supposed to…Luna always says I’m terrible at keeping secrets.  Firstly, she actually lets me go with her, it is her commission by the University anyway.  Dumbledore said he’s never seen a more accomplished beast master than my wife.  Secondly…”  This time he looked between Harry and Ron and leaned in.  “She’s pregnant, although do not tell Ginny that.  We wanted it to be a surprise for later.  She wants to ask her to be a godmother.”

Ron and Harry looked gobsmacked at that and froze in place for a moment before clapping the timid man on the back and offering their congratulations.  “Can’t believe Luna’s gonna be a mum.  I still remember when she and Ginny were little girls playing make believe.  Luna always walked around wearing cloaks and saying she was some sort of witch.”  The three men laughed at that and continued with making small talk until Ginny descended the stairs in her ball gown.

The gold fabric of the gown glistened in the low light of the torches on the wall, and Harry couldn’t help but suck in a breath.  She looked absolutely stunning.  Her long red hair had been pulled back into an intricate up-do, and she wore a bright red lipstick to match the red flowers that spread from the waist of the gown.

“Blimey Gin.  You look spectacular.”  He mused, pulling her into a tight hug.  Ron seemed torn between agreeing that she looked beautiful and being upset that his baby sister was already so grown.  Eventually the prior won out and he sent her his complements as well, accompanied by a kiss on the cheek.  Rolf seemed to nod his agreement as well, and Harry realized why Ginny had come down.

“Alright Potter, its time to get you ready.  You as well Ronald.  Rolf, Luna will be down in a moment.  She said she wanted to stop by her father’s house before heading up to the palace.  Something about news to share.”  There was a curious and hungry glint in Ginny’s eyes, and Harry let out a startled laugh, which he very unsuccessfully tried to cover with a cough.  Glaring at the boy with dark hair, she grabbed his sleeve and dragged him up the stairs.

When he, Ron, and Ginny arrived back at the boy’s room, Harry was surprised to find not one, but two owls waiting for him at the window.  The first owl, Harry noticed, had a letter and a small parcel attached to its leg.  Untying the two, he turned his attention to the other bird.  The second owl seemed skittish, and unsure of Harry, so it took some coaxing for him to release the letter without trying to bite his fingers.  When he did finally succeed in getting the letter, he noticed immediately that it was adorned with Sirius’s messy scrawl.  Not wanting to wait another moment, he quickly tore into the wax seal and drank up the words from his godfather.  Ron and Ginny sensed that what he was about to read was private, and left the room quietly.

_My dear Harry,_

_How many times have I told you not to use my stuffy aristocrat name.  Just because I am Lord Black doesn’t mean you have to call me that.  It reminds me too much of my bitter shrew of a mother.  _

_As for your news, I am delighted to see that my godson may be made into an honest man yet.  Do not apologize for your delay in correspondence, as I just as easily could’ve written to you.  I am sure your mother would have loved this girl.  Kind, intelligent, and beautiful…you do seem to have developed the same taste in women as your father.  Young William does not need my help to be a rake, but he is indeed rather smitten with this French beauty we’ve run into.  I believe that she might return with him to England when we are done here._

_Speaking of which, I may be returning soon.  The King and Queen here have taken a liking to me, and I may be close to securing a treaty with them.  At this rate, I should be home within a few weeks’ time.  Do not forget that I think of you every day.  Your father and mother would be so proud of you._

_I will write more soon._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Padfoot_

Harry couldn’t help but smile at the use of his godfather’s nickname.  When he had been growing up, before Sirius had been stationed on the continent, he always used to call him Pronglette after his father’s nickname.  His smile faded after a moment though, as he turned his gaze to the other letter he had received.  There was only one person who this could be from.  The letter was tied closed rather than sealed with wax, and it was easy to tell that this person did not have enough money for fancy parchment or quills.

_Mr. Potter,_

_I can not say that I was surprised to receive your letter.  I have been waiting since I learned of your mother’s death for you to reach out.  You must have many questions and I find that I am rather ashamed of how I have behaved in all of this._

_Your father and your godfather were my two closest friends in the world.  We had a fourth friend, Peter, but he turned out to be sniveling rat and a coward.  Your father…he did not have a reason to befriend me.  It was not advantageous; I am a poor man from a poor family with no useful connections, and yet he chose to treat me as a brother.  When faced with the news of his death so young, I did not know what to do.  I blamed myself and fled from everything; from Lily in her grief, from Sirius and his heartbreak, and from you.  This caused some tension between me and your godfather and well, it was my turn to be a coward.  My biggest regret though is not coming to your mother’s funeral, and if you can never forgive me I will understand._

_When I visited your father shortly before his death, he gave me a great task.  A task that I did not think I was right for, or that I deserved to be given.  I may have been right, I may have been wrong, but nonetheless, I find that I can now fulfill my old friend’s dying wish._

_Enclosed with this letter you will find a small parcel.  Take this time to open it._

Placing the letter down, Harry grabbed the small object.  It was a piece of aged leather wrapped in twine, and when he pulled the ends, it fell apart to reveal a brilliant ring.  The gold ring was glimmering, a giant ruby sitting in the center, flanked by a circle of clear cut diamonds.  Etched into the face of the ruby, was a very delicate P.  It took a few more moments of staring for Harry to break his eyes away from the hefty piece of jewelry.  Turning his eyes back to the letter, he finished reading it.

_As you can see, that ring is the signet ring for your house.  As the rightful heir and head of your house, it is time that I bequeath it to you.  James was afraid, that if you knew your position and your privilege that you would squander your young years just like he did.  He was determined to raise you away from all the pomp and circumstance.  Your mother grew up poor, a commoner, and she showed James that privilege and parties are not the most important things in life; a lesson your father desperately wanted passed down to you._

_I do not know when I will be ready to meet you…to face you after all my years of shame and cowardice, but I promise that one day I will take you up on your offer, and I will tell you all about the man who was my best friend and the woman who he loved._

_My parting message is one of hope (something your father used to tell me when my sickness was at its worst): be brave enough to heal yourself, even when it hurts.  Take it from someone who has spent the last decade refusing to let old wounds heal.  The pain will fade, but the love they felt for you never will._

_Your humble friend,_

_Remus Lupin_

There were tears threatening to spill over the edges of his eyes when he finished reading the letter.  He closed his hand so tightly around the ring that for a moment, he thought he might have crushed it.

“Harry I know you’re having a moment, but we really do have to get you ready if we’re going to be on time for the ball.”  He nearly jumped as Ron’s voice sounded from behind him, and he couldn’t help his look of surprise.  Still clutching the ring in his hand, he rubbed the tears from his eyes.  Folding the parchments he had received, he placed them in his new book, assuring that he would be able to re-read them at a later point.  Nodding to Ron, he quickly followed the boy out of the room.  Right before they arrived at the room, Harry pulled the ring onto his ring finger, finding a warm comfort in the fact that it fit perfectly.  Ginny was only a few doors down, and when they arrived, she had both his and Ron’s outfits laid out on the bed.

Ron, the poor bloke, was wearing his father’s old court outfit, which was well made, but about twenty years out of fashion.  Harry’s however, were a much newer design.  They dressed quickly while Ginny went to pick out her jewelry.  Looking in the mirror that hung on the wall near the door, Harry couldn’t help but think that he looked rather dashing in his new fancy clothes.  Most of the time, he wore the same baggy and worn gray clothing, so this well-tailored suit was a welcome change of pace.

“What do you think?”  Ron asked, trying to hide his grimace as he inspected himself in the mirror.  The robes were flattering, albeit a little outdated, so Harry just gave his friend simple praise.  “Well it may not be the height of fashion, but you look good mate.  Very prince-like.”  This seemed to be the right thing to say, as his friend beamed.

Ginny emerged then, and Harry groaned as she held a tub of goo and eyed him like she was a wolf and he was a lost lamp.

“Your hair is too noticeable Potter.  You want to sneak around, we need to tame that mess.”

It took nearly half the jar of Ginny’s mixture that she had purchased the day before at the Apothecary’s and twenty-five minutes to successfully get Harry’s jet-black locks to lay the way that Ginny wanted, but in the end, all three of the room’s occupants had to agree that he was nearly unrecognizable. 

“Next you’ll need to remove your glasses.”  Ron advised, earning a nod of agreement from his little sister, who was now removing the excess goop from under her fingertips.

“I can’t bloody see without them.”  Harry protested, but the gingers seemed unconcerned.

“You can wear them until we get there, but there is no way we can fit your glasses over your mask.  You’ll just have to trust us to keep you from bumping into people; well except for the person you want to be bumping into.”  Harry could feel his cheeks burn at Ginny’s comment, and he was at a loss for words.  It would only be a short while longer before he would see Susan again, her golden-brown curls once again captivating his mind.

“Earth to Harry!”  Ron called, snapping his distracted friend out of his stupor.  Noticing the golden mask that he had picked out a few days before being held out to him, he took it and tied the ribbons around the back of his head.  One last glance in the mirror (although blurry now that his glasses were safely in his coat pocket) and Harry was convinced that no one in the world would recognize him. 

* * *

 

“I cannot believe you’ve made us late Ronald.  You just had to stop for sweets didn’t you?”  Ginny chided, exiting the carriage they had rented for the evening.  The footman helped her off, followed by Ron and Harry.  Harry found that while he had been overwhelmed by every new location in the past, the effect was slightly less glamorous without glasses.  Not that the greyish blobs in front of him weren’t perfectly nice.  The two red-headed blobs continued to bicker as they lead him to the entrance doors.  Ginny’s mood suddenly took a turn for the better when a brownish blob that Harry assumed to be Dean approached.  They arrived at the top of a grand staircase, and if he squinted his eyes, he could make out that they were in a grand ballroom decorated in beautiful blue tones.

“Alright, Dean and I will go down first, then you two can go in whatever order you wish.  The princess has already been announced, so there’s no need for a formal introduction of our names.  Lucky for you Harry.”  He nodded tightly at Ginny’s instructions, desperately searching the crowd of blobs for a golden brown.

Ginny and Dean did indeed go first, followed by Ron.  He garnered some attention from a squealing girl, and Harry assumed that was likely Lavender Brown, and Ron would spend a good portion of the rest of the evening avoiding the silly bint.  When it came time for him to descend the grand stairs, he was surprised to find a hush had fallen over the ball room.  Dancing had stopped, and suddenly a wave of whispers broke out.  He couldn’t hear much, but it seemed they were all desperately trying to figure out just who he was.

Scanning the blobs as he came closer to them, his eyes connected with a flash of brown in the distance, and he made his way towards the center of the dance floor.  As he approached it became clearer and clearer that he this was his intended target.  Fidgeting with his mask and pulling some invisible lint off his collar, he bowed deeply and grabbed the hand of the girl he had approached.

“I believe I asked for a dance.”  He greeted, kissing her knuckles lightly and standing tall.  There was something different about her when he looked up, and it took him a moment to place it.  He curls were slightly less wild, tamed into pretty ringlets that fell down her back.  She wore an ivory colored dress with blue ribbons tied around the arms and blue satin decorating the back.  Her mask was white and gold, matching the gold of his own mask.  No, none of that was what was different though, no what was different, was she was wearing a crown.


	8. Midnight Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry arrives at the ball and is startled by what he sees. What will he do when he discovers a secret that the woman of his dreams has been hiding?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I am so sorry for the delay but I am super sick. Also if this chapter is unintelligible or bad I blame the fact that I am full of cold medicine. As always, any comments or kudos are incredibly appreciated. I only have two more chapters planned for this story, so I want to thank all of you who have taken the time to read my little passion project.

“Oh…uhhh…Hi Harry.”  His girl greeted.  Her mouth moved and it was her voice he heard, but his green eyes were attached to the petite crown on her head.  “Please dance with me and I’ll explain.  Please.”

Even despite the mask covering most of her face, it was like the world stopped when he finally met her eyes.  Pushing aside his confusion and curiosity, he nodded, offering her his elbow as Ron and Ginny had told him to.  They didn’t have to move very far to reach the dance floor, and with a wave of her hand, the orchestra began to play a simple waltz.

“I know that I owe you an explanation.”  She began, and Harry just shook his head.

“You don’t.  I understand wanting to be someone else, even if its only for a few moments with a stranger.  I’m sure that being a Princess is lonely, never certain if people like you for who you are or for that piece of metal on your head.”  There was something in her smile that clued him into the fact that she was intensely relieved to hear that.  Without thinking, he snaked his hand out to twirl her, and watched with keen fascination as her tamed curls swirled around her like a force of nature.

When she returned to his arms, she was blushing brightly underneath her mask, and he was smiling warmly at her.  “You are the strangest gentleman I’ve ever met.”  She wondered aloud, replacing her hand where it had been on his bicep and stepping back into the rhythm of the waltz.

“You must not have met many men then; I am far from the strangest and hardly a gentleman.”  He spun her again, and this time when she returned to him, there was a familiar laughter bubbling at her rose-tinted lips.

“Harry Potter, who is not intimidated by Princesses or afraid to cry in University libraries.  You are most certainly strange, but I find myself rather in the mood for some oddity.”  Her brown eyes once again found his green ones and she sighed.  “Although you’re right.  I haven’t met an excessive amount of men.  I do tend to spend all of my time in court with the Malfoy heir trying to trick me into falling in love with him.”  They both took time to glance over at where a seething Draco Malfoy glared at them from the edge of the ballroom and laughed together.

“I…urm well forgive me if this is too personal or forward, but I heard that if you don’t find a husband tonight then you have to marry his wanna-be royal pratness.”  For a moment, he forgot he was talking to the Princess of the realm and realized too late that he had just loudly declared that a high-ranking member of court was a prat.  Incredibly luckily for him, the Princess chuckled at his statement, rather than sending him off to the dungeons.

“Sadly you are not misinformed.  Draco is…well he is definitely a cad, but his family is wealthy and have good connections, especially to the French court.  Our ambassador is working to secure a treaty, but my father fears that we might need a stronger connection to the King and Queen.  Draco is the Queen’s nephew after all, no matter how poor their relationship.”  The frown that accompanied her statement only lasted a brief moment before she replaced it with her aristocratic smile.  He recognized that smile from the years he had spent pretending he was happy and well-adjusted in his prison. 

“You know Princess, in the middle of this dance floor…” He paused to twirl her, catching her by surprise this time with the seriousness of his tone.  “We can be what we truly are.  You a brilliant and beautiful young girl with a hunger for knowledge, and me, the common boy who is in love with you.”

His declaration hadn’t been planned, but the song ended as if it had been.  The music cut out and the dance floor began to empty, but there in the center remained the princess and the mysterious man who was the talk of the ball.

After a moment of staring at him, as if she was seeing him for the first time, Hermione curtseyed quickly, excusing herself.  “I must go find my father…responsibilities you know.”  Before she could make her escape though, Harry grabbed hold of her hand, ignoring the soft gasp that escaped the crowd that had been watching them interact.

“Come find me again.  Come find me and we can always be just us.  Just Harry and Hermione…no court, no Malfoy…”  His eyes pleaded along with his voice, and she just darted her eyes from his face over to the direction of where her throne sat and back again.  Nodding tightly, she pulled her hand from his, and she became lost in the crowd.

* * *

 

Ron was the first to find him after his dance with the Princess, and Harry was not quite sure how his friend would react.

“You just danced with the Princess.”  The red head had stated matter-of-factly; pulling the lion mask he had purchased for the ball over his head.  “I mean Blimey, if I hadn’t known that was you, I would have thought it was some foreign prince.”

“So you’re not cross that I danced with your dream girl?”  Harry asked, keeping his eyes fixed on Ron, who was holding some sort of horderve in his hand.

“Course not.  May the best man win and all that, besides, you’re absolutely batty over that Susan bint.”  The way Ron’s shoulders shrugged and he dismissed Harry made a lump form in the dark-haired boy’s throat.  How could he possibly tell Ron that his dream girl and Harry’s were in fact the same person?

“Well…urm…you see…Here’s the thing Ron.  Princess Hermione is Susan.”  It had taken him a moment to get the words out, but when he did, they were thick and worried.  Ron just stared at him for a moment before blinking.  For once, he swallowed what he was chewing, choosing not to speak with his mouth full.  “What do you mean Susan is the Princess?!”  He nearly bellowed, attracting the attention of some nosy ladies nearby.  Harry smiled charmingly at them and moved the pair slightly further away.

“I mean that she…well she lied to me about her name because she didn’t want to be the Princess for a moment.  Susan is one of her ladies, but not the girl I met.”  Harry went to run his hand through his hair, stopping just short as he imagined the look of rage Ginny would have if he undid all of her hard work.

“Excuse me sirs.”  A third voice interrupted, just as Ron looked like he was about to explode.  A beautiful girl with red hair made her way over to them, holding her skirts in a way that denoted a learned type of grace.  “Are you Harry Potter sir?”  The woman, who was wearing a similar gown to that of the Princess regarded him with a curious eye.

“Urm…yes, but may I ask who you are?”  Harry posed, eyeing the girl who was very clearly someone important.

“Oh yes.  My name may already be familiar to you, though I am not.  My name is Susan Bones.  My lady has informed me as to her little bit of deceit.  She has sent me to you with a message.”  Before the girl could continue, Ron took her hand; bowing and kissing her knuckles. 

“Lady Susan…it’s a pleasure to meet you.  A more formal introduction is befitting of a lady of your position.  My name is Ron Weasley and this is my best friend, Harry Potter.”  Harry could barely contain his laughter at Ron’s formality.  He was quite certain that in their years of friendship, this was the first time the boy had ever used the manners his mother had drilled into him.

“Oh urm…well the pleasure is all mine Mr. Weasley.”  She responded, an obvious red tint rising in her cheeks from her neck.  Interesting…Harry thought.  “My mistress wished for me to tell you that she was simply startled by your sentiments.  Her father has her making her rounds with the visiting dignitaries for now but hopes that you will give her another dance.  Something about just you.  I must be returning to her side now.”  Glancing towards Ron, her cheeks darkened even more.  “Perhaps you could escort me back to her highness’s side?”  By the time she had her hand out, he had placed his arm under hers and with only a pleased smile back to his friend, Ron was off.

“Hope that works out for him.”  Harry spoke out loud, his smile working his way back to his lips.  Hermione had rushed off after his admission, and he had been worried that he had scared her with his truth.  She was the most amazing woman he had ever met, and even if it was just for a night, or one single dance, he was honored to have been hers.

Finding Ginny and Dean next hadn’t been difficult, given that they had been dancing for most of the evening.  When they finally took a break to refuel with food and drink, Harry slipped into the chair to her right.  “I suppose you saw earlier.”

“Saw what?  You dancing with the Princess or Ron getting quite cozy with a lady-in-waiting who, very strangely, is named Susan?”  Harry laughed at his friend, almost forgetting that she had always been a very observant woman.  Very unlike her brother and himself who were hopelessly oblivious on their best days.

“I suppose both.  I feel…this is silly, but I feel as if I’m in some sort of fairytale.  Stolen dances with a princess before returning to my peasant life.   Shite!!”  He called out, ducking under the table before he could explain.  It wasn’t long after that Ginny and Dean discovered why though.

“Such a lovely ball, wouldn’t you say, Ginevra?”  Petunia’s horse-like features were somehow even more poignant when she was wearing a horse mask.  Her putrid voice still filled the air with a sinister sweetness that nearly made Ginny gag.

“Oh its an absolute delight.  Only sad that Harry couldn’t be here; Dean was so looking forward to meeting him.  Weren’t you darling?”  Ginny asked Dean, giving him a pointed look that seemed to express enemy and play along.

“Yes of course sweetheart.  I am most disappointed to not get to meet your friends.”  For extra effect, his kissed her cheek.  Petunia was glaring by then, and Dudley and Vernon had joined her.

“Strangest thing though.  I just saw a boy who reminds me a great deal of my nephew dancing with the princess.  Preposterous of course, seeing as that whelp is back at the cottage where we had left him…I can’t imagine what consequences there would be should I find myself to have been disobeyed.”  Vernon’s voice was steady, but the threat was very apparent.  Ginny just smiled at him sweetly, knowing that any movement besides that was likely to give them away.

“No matter.  We’ll know soon enough.  Come Petunia, one last dance and then we best be off home.  Midnight should be a good time to leave.”  Petunia smirked smugly at the ginger woman, although she inclined her head slightly.  Dudley frowned at her before following his parents back towards the dance floor.

“Harry you’ve got to leave right now.  If we don’t beat your Aunt and Uncle back then you’ll never see the light of day again.  Its 11:35 now.”  Ginny looked at Dean with an expression of immense regret and couldn’t even begin to explain how sorry she was to have to leave him like this.

“Go.  Take care of your friend.  The next time I see you, it will be when you become my bride.”  He kissed her lips in a way that was most unbecoming of a lady, but she seemed not to mind, wrapping her arms around his neck.  When they finally parted, it was with a low bow and a few tears.

Dean had hurried away to distract the Dursleys as Ginny frantically scanned the room for a familiar mop of blonde hair.  “Luna!”  She called, finally having found her eccentric friend near the dessert table.  It would’ve been impossible to miss her, wearing some sort of homemade lion mask on her head and an orange and yellow tiered gown.

“Hello Ginny.  Harry.”  Harry just blinked at the girl.  He was shocked that she had recognized him.

“How did you…no, there’s not time.  Luna I need you to cause a distraction.  You see those people over there?”  Ginny was gesturing to where Vernon and Petunia danced followed by Dudley who was raiding the buffet table.

“They have dark auras.  They’re attracting hundreds of wrackspurts.  Such a shame.  Perhaps I could offer them a cleansing.”  Luna nearly floated away after a swift nod to her ginger friend, and Ginny continued on her war path.

“Alright Harry.  I’ll go detach Ron from the lady and you go say your goodbyes to the Princess.”  Before Harry could interrupt or protest, Ginny continued.  “I did not come all this way to watch you run away from things that scare you.  Say goodbye to your princess, because if you don’t you will regret it for the rest of your life.  You may never see her again, so I want you to be able to say that at least you weren’t a coward.”  Harry couldn’t lie and say that her real identity as a Princess didn’t scare him, because he was bloody well terrified.  Ginny was right.  Hermione deserved a goodbye.  She deserved her one last dance.  She could never marry him, not if she wanted to keep her title, and he wouldn’t ask her to give it all up for a man she just met.  He was nothing and she…she was everything.

He found her quickly enough, having ventured towards the same brown blob in a white dress that he had found when he had first come to the ball.  She was speaking with her ladies, which caused Harry at least some relief.  When he found her, he simply held out his arm to her with a slight bow, and she accepted.

The moment they hit the dance floor, the rest of the world fell away.  He forgot all about his horrible family and the fifteen minutes he had left before he would leave her.  He forgot that he was just a low-level aristocrat who could never dream of marrying a princess.  He forgot everything but the way that her fingers burned him as they touched.

Her eyes were wide and warm, and he found himself drawn into their depths.  Silence lasted for a good majority of their dance before he found his voice.  “I have to go.”  He choked out, finding that it was harder than he had expected to speak those words.

“You…oh.”  Hermione’s content smile was slowly turning down into a frown, and Harry hated it.  She should’ve been smiling or laughing, she had the best laugh.

“Its not because I want to…no its…well as much as we can be just Harry and just Hermione within each others arms, outside…you are a Princess, and I…I am nothing.”  He twirled her as he said this, unable to watch her face as he spoke the truth. 

“You aren’t nothing.  You’re…you’re kind and smart and handsome…no you could never be nothing.”  Her hand brushed his cheek, and he did the only thing he could think of.  He brought his lips down onto hers.  In that moment, with their bodies pressed against one another, the world had never been more perfect.  It was as if they had been wrapped in magic and time had stalled.  They were broken apart by the sounding toll of a clock, chiming the hour.  Harry’s eyes snapped up to the giant clock tower visible through one of the windows and cursed as he realized that midnight was upon him.

“I have to…I have to go.”  He spoke, the devastation nearly causing his voice to break.  She was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to him and he had to leave her.  Grabbing his hand, she held back her tears.  “Don’t go.  You don’t have to go.”  He stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head.  If he didn’t leave now, he would never be able to do it. 

“I’m sorry.”  Pulling his hand out of hers, he could feel that his father’s ring had slipped off.  He couldn’t look for it…there was no time.  With one last long look at the love of his life, Harry ran towards the doors where Ginny and Ron stood waiting for him.

* * *

 

It took only a minute or two for the trio to frantically pack what they had brought with them to the inn and then they were headed back to Godric’s Hollow.  They rode as if they were being chased, and Harry ignored the chafing of his thighs.  This was the most intense ride he’d ever taken, but he was feeling numb.

He had looked his beautiful princess in the eye and ran from her.  The ride gave him plenty of time to imagine the life she’d now have with some boring aristocrat who didn’t appreciate her brilliance.  Just thinking about her being with that Malfoy bastard made bile rise in his throat.  Ron and Ginny, although they too were distracted by the necessary roughness of the ride, knew better than to try to interrupt Harry’s wallowing.  It took them a majority of the night to arrive at their destination, but as the sun began to rise over the cottage’s roof, Harry, Ron and Ginny raced past the drive and pulled up to the house.

“Dobby!”  Ron called, frantic as he searched the rooms.  Dobby, ever the faithful servant, approached out of the kitchen with some freshly baked bread and tea.

“I saw young master and his friends arriving over the hill and took the time to make tea and refreshments.”  The elderly butler smiled broadly as he went to set the tray down.  “I made enough for the three who are approaching now as well.”

Harry blanched as he spoke, and hurriedly pushed his friends and the servant into the kitchen.  “Thank you for your service Dobby, but you, Ron and Ginny have to leave…now.”  Hugging his friends tightly, he muttered his undying thanks for this trip before pushing them out the door.

Only moments had passed since his friends had disappeared back on the trail to Ottery St. Catchpole when the door to the cottage flew open as Vernon Dursley, his wife and their awful son arrived.

“Potter!”  Vernon called, and Harry quickly grabbed the tray Dobby had been holding and entered from the kitchen.

“Yes uncle?”  He asked, somehow managing to not give away the tremble in his voice.  When Harry set the tray down in front of his Aunt, she glared at him and he just shrugged at her.

“Don’t get smart with me boy.  You were in the capitol, weren’t you?  After I specifically told you to stay here.”  Vernon raised his voice, and Harry couldn’t help but notice that his uncle looked rather like an aggravated tomato.  His round features were colored a deep red shade, and his mustache twitched in his anger.

“No.  I’ve been here uncle.  You told me to stay here so I did.  The house is clean, the animals are taken care of, and I made tea.  Now I have some laundry to do, if you’ll excuse me.”  Harry steeled his spine as he walked out of the room, and tried to ignore the sound of clattering and shattered porcelain as his uncle likely threw the tray.

“Mark my words.  That boy will never leave this house again.”  The door to the kitchen locked behind Harry, and he knew…he knew that Vernon meant it.  They had done this before, but he knew that this time Vernon would follow through on his threat.  Taking in the room that would likely become his prison, he stumbled towards his small cupboard bedroom, collapsing on the bed of thin straw.  He finally let himself feel all the misery he had been holding in, and when he finally gave in to the exhaustion that filled him, he dreamt.  He dreamt of beautiful brown curls and the woman who could never be his.


	9. A Day in Court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is being held captive in his own home, dreaming every day of the princess he left behind. How can he find his way back to her, or was he just never meant for a happily ever after?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright folks, there is only one more chapter of this that will serve as an epilogue. I'm so humbled and grateful for all the support this story has received, and I want to thank you all for taking the time to read my work. As always, kudos and comments make my day, and they are deeply appreciated. Let me know if there is anything you'd like to see from the epilogue!

Days passed by quickly in Harry’s perpetual imprisonment.  He had not seen or heard from Ron and Ginny since his Aunt and Uncle had returned home from the Ball.  Not due to any lack of trying on their parts though.  On more than one occasion, he would hear his aunt’s shrill voice turning away visitors when he was in the kitchen.

Weeks had gone by since Princess Hermione’s Ball, and the only solace Harry found was in his books and the fleeting dreams where he could see her eyes.  A loneliness he had never felt before settled on him, and he found it harder and harder to wake in the morning.  The routine of making meals and tea for his aunt and uncle and Dudley dragged any remaining joy from his life.  Walking to the market; swimming in the river with Ron when his chores were done; everything he had enjoyed was gone.  Even the birds seemed to have stopped singing for him, retracting their sweet songs that he used to enjoy when he woke to make the morning’s bread.

At least, Harry thought, it couldn’t possibly get worse.

Harry, of course, was wrong.

The rain began on a Tuesday and it didn’t stop for nine days.  Petunia had always been moodier when there was rain, but it was even worse when it became evident that the downpours were ruining her flowers.  Petunia cared about her garden more than anything in the world besides her son and husband.  Her upset about her flowers translated into even harsher treatment of Harry than normal.  His tasks became increasingly arbitrary, and it wasn’t until he was being made to scrub the stones on the walkway between the house and the garden in the pouring rain that whatever was holding him together finally snapped.

He rose, his worn trousers caked in mud and drenched from the deluge.  His messy black hair fell in his face as it dripped onto his nose.  “You foul boy.  You can’t even complete the simplest of tasks.  I should’ve known caring for you was a mistake.  I should’ve cast you out when my freak of a sister died.  Now get back to scrubbing or there will be hell to pay.”

Harry didn’t need to hide his tears because the rain was still dripping down his face, but he could feel their hot sting regardless.  He didn’t know what to say or what to feel, so he just turned.  His plan was to run away; to find a village somewhere and get a job.  Lily and James and their memory were holding him there, but he would never be happy again under his aunt and uncle’s care.  His beautiful home from his childhood was slowly being turned into a den of nightmares.

His plan to run was cut short when his head hit straight into something hard.  Stepping back, he was surprised to find that the hard mass was a shoulder.  Looking up to find who the shoulder belonged to, he cried out in relief as he caught sight of his godfather.

“There will be no need to cast Harry away Petunia.”  Sirius Black muttered, his aristocratic stance and powerful voice loud, even with the pattering of rain.  “You and your husband and your child will be leaving this house.  It is my godson’s home and not yours.  Lily trusted me to his care when she died and I was foolish enough to believe you were capable of looking after him.”

Petunia seemed to blanche, desperately scrambling for some excuse she could string together.  “Sirius, I…we weren’t expecting you.”  Was all she could say, and the fury in the older man’s eyes caused him to nearly glow.

“It is Lord Black to you.  You have until the end of tomorrow to leave this place.  I have spent far too long delegating the care of my son to you.”  Sirius stood at his full height, putting his hands in his pockets in a way Harry assumed was to show off both his rapier and the badges that signified his rank.  Even if Petunia wanted to go against him, he outranked her by an astronomical amount and he had the law on his side.

“He’s not your son.”  She spat, finally realizing that her battle had been lost.

“He’s as good as!”  Sirius countered, drawing closer to the woman.  He wouldn’t raise a hand against her, but his energy was dangerous nonetheless.  Stepping back towards Harry, he placed an arm around the boy’s shoulder.  As if the heavens were responding to the overwhelming burst of joy Harry felt in the arms of his godfather, the rain began to slow; then it began to stop.  When the last drops of rain had fallen, the clouds slowly shifted away, revealing a bright blue sky.

Petunia, Vernon and Dudley were made by Sirius to hastily pack.  Although Vernon tried to fight it in the beginning, he was a pragmatic man and understood that there was nothing he could do.  Vernon Dursley’s family home was not small, but it was neither a manor home nor exceptionally extravagant.  It was a noticeable downgrade from Potter Manor.  Harry couldn’t even pretend to hide his glee as he watched them march out the door.  He prayed that he may never have to see them again.  Sirius stood by his side as he watched them load their carriage and ride away.

“I’m so sorry Harry.  Why did you never tell me how awful they were?  I could’ve…I would have figured out something.”  Sirius’s voice waivered, as he regarded his godson.  Placing his hand on Harry’s cheek, he stroked it more to comfort himself than the boy.

Harry just shook his head, leaning into his godfather’s touch.  It had been so long since he had felt any kind of affection from an adult in his life.  Craving it as a child and then missing it everyday after his mother passed.  “I didn’t want to be a burden, or a distraction.  You got your appointment from the King and I…you would’ve have given it all up for me.  I didn’t want you to.  But there is some things I haven’t told you, if you’d like to hear them now.”

And so Harry and his godfather sat down to tea and they talked and talked about Harry’s adventures in the capitol until their tea had gone cold.  He recounted everything, leaving out only one detail; his kiss with the princess was his one memory with her that he wanted to keep for himself.

“So you’re telling me that you won the King’s horse race on my Buckbeak?  Brilliant!  James would have been so proud.  Of course my amazing horse was clearly the key to your success.”  Sirius laughed heartily as he dodged the throw pillow Harry had launched at his face.  “And of course dancing with the princess.  That must’ve been a magical night.”

“It was meant to be…urm or rather it was but then I had to leave at midnight to make it back here before Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.  I did it, but Vernon still didn’t believe me.  Perhaps its for the best that I was made to leave early though.  I was getting all kinds of ideas about a girl I would never be able to marry.”  Harry took a sad sip of his tea, grimacing at his discovery that it had long since gone cold.

“Why can’t you marry her?  She’s seems to like you well enough.”  Sirius took a sip from his mug, seemingly unaffected by the fact that it was no longer warm.

“Are you mad?  I’m an aristocrat, but she’s a princess!  I do feel rather awful, but she should be marrying someone of rank.  Someone closer to her status.  Malfoy is a right git, but he’s more on par with what she’ll be looking for in a husband.”  He couldn’t help the upturn of his lips as he mentioned Malfoy, remembering his smug face and the way he disrespected Ginny when they were in Diagon Alley.  He was awful, but the truth was that he was a young man of wealth and breeding; things like that may not matter to the princess, but they were advantageous for marriage.

“You’re kidding me right?”  Sirius asked, his expression tense and concerned.  Unused to any sort of serious expression from his godfather, Harry tensed beside him.

“What do you mean?”  Harry began fidgeting with the handle of his tea cup, suddenly uncomfortable with the weight of Sirius’s eyes.

“You’re not just some aristocrat Harry.  You are Lord Harry of House Potter.  You are a Duke.  Next to their Majesties, her Highness and the Malfoys, you are the highest-ranking member of court.  Merlin did Petunia really not tell you?  She was supposed to begin preparing you for Court on your 18th birthday.”  Harry just stared at Sirius, processing what he had been told.  He rose, finding that pacing often helped him with taking in new information.

“I can’t be a Duke.  I’m Harry…just Harry.”  His eyes grew wide as he scowled at Sirius.  His disbelief soon turning to sadness which in turn became anger.  “You mean to tell me that I’ve been some poncey lord this whole time?!  Why did no one tell me?  Ron and Ginny?  Malfoy even?  They all had to know.”

Sirius let him rage and rant and pace holes in the floor before he placed a hand on Harry’s arm, guiding him back to the couch.  “When your father married your mother, it was not very popular amongst the elite circles.  She was a commoner after all, but he was utterly besotted with her; society be damned.  There are many new members who probably don’t even remember your grandparents being fixtures at court.  But I assure you that you are a Lord; I think whether you’re poncey or not is up to you.”  The slight tease earned a glare from Harry, but before long both men were laughing.

“So what now?”  Harry asked, watching nervously as a smile crept across his godfather’s face. 

* * *

 

“I call this meeting of court into session.  Lord Malfoy, you have asked for the floor.”  The king held his hand out to the gathered crowd, gesturing for the elder Malfoy man to come forward.  His white blonde hair was tied back in a fashionable ponytail and his clothes were made of the highest quality.  He was a man who oozed power and influence, and no one could question whether he was a nobleman.

Bowing deferentially before the King and Queen, he then turned and did the same to their daughter; who despite her best attempts was visibly dismayed at the unfolding events.  “It is my pleasure to offer your highness’s my son for consideration of your daughter’s hand.  Draco is a top student at Hogwarts and a very talented athlete as well.  He has an affinity for both politics and foreign affairs.  I do hope that you will lend us your humble consideration.”

Every word that he spoke had been carefully crafted, and every eye followed the younger Malfoy as he waltzed forward to join his father, making a show of bowing to the Princess.  For her part, the girl did manage to avoid actively grimacing as he held out his hand to her.  “Lord Malfoy, I am honored that you would offer your son.  He is…much like you.”  Her diplomatic word choice would’ve sounded respectful to others, but there was dripping disdain in her voice.  She was miserable, and she had been miserable since Harry Potter had run away from her.  The only thing that brought her comfort was the golden ring she wore on a chain around her neck; her only hope that one day he may find her again.

“Now I open this matter to the court.  Does anyone else wish to bring forth a suitor for my daughter?”  The King beckoned for families to begin sending forth their sons, and Hermione watched as one by one the most eligible young aristocrats came forward.  She catalogued them all as they did so, praying and hoping that one might just end up being her boy who ran away.

Seamus Finnigan, Theodore Nott, Terry Boot, Zacharias Smith…by the time they had all come forward, there was around ten men standing in front of her.  She knew most of them and she also knew that if she could not marry her mysterious love that despite her loathing and distaste, Malfoy was her best option.  They had all expressed interest after her birthday ball and she had spent enough time with all of them to know she rather had no choice.  Seamus was probably her favorite of all of them, but his father was a commoner and it would not be a convenient marriage for a marriage of convenience.

“It is up to the Princess now to determine who she would like to wed.  Have you decided Hermione?”  Her mother’s voice was soft and sweet, but still in a confident way that commanded the room.  She had always envied her mother that; that natural confidence with which she ruled alongside her father.  Glancing between her parents, she found she also envied their love.  Looking to Malfoy, she imagined the kiss she’d participated in so fleetingly all those weeks before, and her heart broke again.

“Yes.  I will be accepting the suit of Lord Mal…”  She hadn’t finished her statement when the doors to the court opened.  It seemed to catch most of the room off guard, and everyone’s eyes turned towards the door.  Sirius Black walked in, resting his palm on the simple black walking stick that he was known to carry.

“Ambassador Black, we weren’t expecting you at Court.  Please come, join us.  My young Hermione was about to choose a husband.”  The King smiled at him in a friendly way, and Sirius just smiled back.

“Actually that’s rather why I’m here Majesty.  I come to present my godson for her highness’s consideration.”  Murmurs and whispers broke out across the room with certain more vocal members accosting him.  Augusta Longbottom looked as if she were trying to throw her shoe.  The Queen raised her hand and in moments silence fell upon the crowd.

“I wasn’t aware you had a godson.  Bring him forth.”  Sirius bowed his head to her, moving aside.  Through the door strode Harry Potter.  Not the Harry Potter who had received his invitation to a ball in his cousin’s worn trousers, nor the Harry Potter who hid himself behind a mask, no this Harry Potter was Harry Potter, Duke of Godric.

His clothes were no longer worn and ill-fitting, replaced instead by a well-crafted blue woolen suit.  The glasses Ginny had bought him in Ollivander’s sat on his nose, and his hair was unruly and wild around his face.  Every step he took echoed on the stone floor thanks to his new Italian leather shoes.  When he finally broke out to the front of the crowd, he bowed lowly to the King and Queen and then turned to the Princess.

Like it had been with the Ball, time seemed to stop when their eyes met.  Those amber and honey eyes he had been dreaming about for weeks were staring right into his.  Her curls were wilder now than they had been on the day of the ball, and he remembered with care how beautiful they had been when he had first saw her.

“Your Highness.”  He greeted, bowing to her before taking her hand in his and bringing her knuckles up to his lips.

“Harry…that is urm…well I suppose I don’t know your official name.”  The blush that was sitting on her cheeks was furthered by her mixture of happiness and rage at seeing him.  He was almost certain that she was very cross with him.

“Ah yes highness.  Allow me to introduce my godson, Lord Harry of the House Potter, Duke of Godric.”  Sirius basked in the glory of the outrage that his words brought out from the crowd.  Many were loudly postulating that the House of Potter had died out, with even more wondering whether or not he was a bastard love child of the notorious Lord Black.  Regardless, it was Lord Malfoy who first rose above the shouts.

“Your Majesty, there is no proof of this boy’s claim to the Dukedom.  James Potter and his common wife left society long ago.  Forgive me your indulgence, but this would not be the first time that Lord Black has tried to make a mockery of this court.”  The glare which Lucius Malfoy fixed upon Sirius Black would have made lesser men cower in terror, but lesser men had not been raised by Wahlburga Black.  If there was a single useful thing he learned from his banshee of a mother, it was to have a spine of steel and to never back down.  A few in the crowd agreed to Lucius’s remarks, whispering about Sirius’s past.

“As much as I do wish to believe you my friend, Lord Malfoy brings up a point.  Can you or this boy provide proof of his claim?”  The King shifted in his throne, clearly intrigued by the events unfolding if for no other reason than he believed this to be the man who had won his horse race.

“Of course he can Majesty.”  Sirius looked expectantly at Harry who shook his head nervously.  Approaching his godson, he placed a hand on his shoulder.  Making sure to keep his voice to a whisper, he spoke.  “Didn’t you say Remus sent you your family ring?  That’s plenty proof enough.”

Harry swallowed audibly as his face began to blanche.  “I urm…well I may have lost it.”

“What?!!!”  Sirius roared, realizing a moment too late that they were still in the king’s court.  Clutching Harry’s shoulder slightly tighter, he gritted his teeth.  “What do you mean you lost it?  We have no other proof that you are James’s son other than the fact you look exactly like him.  Bugger.”  He cursed quietly to himself, scowling at Lucius before turning back to the King and Queen.

“Well it seems to be that…Your Majesties I can promise you…”  Sirius seemed to be attempting to find the best way to validate Harry’s claim with no tangible proof, but he was broken off when Harry took a step towards the monarchs.

“Majesties, highness.  I am the only child of James and Lily Potter.  My father, well I recently came into possession of my family ring, but it was…misplaced recently.  I can offer only my word and honor that I am who I say I am.  If that is not enough for your majesties, I can understand.  It is, however, all I have.  It is all any man has; his word, and his honor.”  The King and Queen smiled at him, but it was distracted by a loud scoff from Draco Malfoy.

“Your majesties, I do not seek to discredit whatever he is saying, but surely no self-respecting son of a noble house would be so careless as to lose his family’s ring.  How can we simply trust the word of such a reckless boy?”  Harry should have punched the sorry smirk off the boy’s face, and it was only the very real grip Sirius now had on his shoulder again that held him back.  He hadn’t intended to lose his ring; it had fallen off his finger the night of the ball.  He hadn’t the time to go back and look for it.  It was likely in some thief’s pocket or in a dusty corner somewhere.

Hermione, who had been sitting quietly while the men bickered, cleared her throat.  Court custom required that the two boys cease their bickering and allow the Princess to speak, although Harry was furious at Malfoy, he had to obey the decorum.

“I believe I can resolve your worries Lord Malfoy.”  She spoke clearly, her crisp voice cutting through the crowd.  Pulling at the chain around her neck.  Harry watched her carefully, distracted by the way her hair caught the light as she moved.  It wasn’t until she had stood from her throne that he even noticed the ring in her hand.  “This is the signet ring for the House of Potter.  I do believe you left this behind when you ran from me.”

She was within distance now for him to touch her, and only the fear that he would be imprisoned for doing so in front of the court kept him from doing so.  Her small fingers wrapped around his, and he offered her his hand.  Her eyes finally met his as she slid the ring on his finger, and the room had gone silent.

“Father, Mother…this is the boy I want to marry.  That is my choice.  He is my choice.”  Although she spoke to the King and Queen, her warm eyes never once left his.  He was vaguely aware of the Malfoys storming out, but nothing else in the world mattered.  The lords and ladies and common folk of the court cheered as he took her in his arms.  It may have been improper to do so, but he placed his lips on hers, fulfilling the fantasies he had been having about them.  Her lips were as soft and warm as he remembered, and as quickly as their passion had begun, they were broken apart.

“Lord Black, do you vouch for this boy.  Do you say that he is worthy of my daughter?”  It was a trick question, and luckily Sirius Black was well-versed in the backwards language of court.

“No one is worthy of the Princess, but I do believe that my godson is as close as one may get.  He is kind and smart, but what separates him most is his willingness to give his heart to any who may desire it.  If you would allow the union, I know that he would love her with everything he could and he would devote himself to her service.”  Harry was blushing furiously at this point, having realized that he had just snogged the Princess of the realm in front of her father who had the power to have him beheaded with a simple look.

As he stood there waiting as the King and Queen discussed the matter amongst themselves, he felt her soft hand entwine with his.  “You are my choice.  I…I didn’t know if you would come back, so when I found your ring, I held on to it.  Hoping that one day, that ring would lead you back here; and here you are.  Although I am still cross about you leaving me alone at my own birthday party.”  Her laughter bubbled up between her last words, and he was reminded of the saccharine nature of it.  It was infectious, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life making her laugh.

The few minutes that the monarchs spent discussing were agonizing to Harry, who stood anxiously in front of an ever-growing crowd.  At this point, news had spread of the Malfoys storming out of the castle, and more onlookers had come to see what could cause such a scene.  Finally, the King held his hand up for silence.

“Lord Potter, you ask for my daughter’s hand in marriage.  I have one question you must answer before I allow this.  What is it you love about her?”  The King’s face was stoic as he asked it, as if he was trying to blend in with the statues of previous kings that lined the walls of the throne room.  The room fell silent as every person within it waited for his answer.

“Your daughter first captured my heart before I even knew who she was.  I was lost and alone, and she came to me like an angel.  I was taken in by her wily curls and the amber flecks in her eyes, but I must admit that it was her kindness and her intellect that stole my heart.”  He turned to her, finding that admitting his love for her to her father was slightly unnerving.

“When she looks at me, I burn for her to never look away.  Her very existence is like a warm fire on a cold winter’s day.  In _The Winter’s Tale_ , Shakespeare says, ‘O! She’s warm, if this be magic, let it be an art as lawful as eating.’  That’s how I feel around your daughter; like the world is filled with magic and life and…and love.”  His last words were spoken to her and her alone, and he was pleased to see that she seemed to hold that same warmth in her eyes then as she had when they first met.

The Queen, not the king was the one to respond when he was done.  “You have our blessing.  It is our distinct pleasure to announce that we support this union.  Come stand beside us.”  Hermione and Harry made their way back to the thrones, never once letting go of each other’s hands.

“Let me introduce to this court my daughter, Princess Hermione, and her betrothed, Harry, Duke of Godric.”

Standing there, his hand in hers and looking out over the crowd of strangers, Harry couldn’t believe his life.  Perhaps his mother had been right when she had read him those foolish stories as a child; maybe for once, someone was going to be getting a happily ever after.  As applause filled the room, Harry turned to the beautiful woman beside him and kissed her again.

And they lived happily ever after…


	10. Until Death Do Us Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day has come for Hermione and Harry to marry, and Harry is unsure if he is ready for all that it means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Life has been super hectic for the past few weeks, but here is the final chapter of Princess and the Potter. I started this story on a whim and I am blown away by the incredibly response this story has gotten. Thank you all so much for reading my work; you all mean the world to me.

“Nervous?’  A voice called out from behind him, and he turned away from the mirror.  Sirius Black stood in his finest suit in the doorframe of the room that he had been staying in.  No matter how long he stayed in the comfortable full beds of the palace, he had never truly felt like he belonged there.

“Oh no.  Just marrying a princess in front of about a thousand people while simultaneously accepting a crown that guarantees I will be the next king of England.  What’s there to be nervous about?”  Harry’s voice wavered for a moment at the end, and Sirius chuckled lightly.

“Told you he was having a breakdown.”  Another voice added, as Ron Weasley strut through the door.  He had been the natural choice to be Harry’s best man, but he was not very helpful at the pre-wedding jitters.

“Yes well, I don’t know what I expected.  James was just as much a mess when he was going to marry Lily.  Nearly tried to jump out a second-floor window.  Guess you two are more alike than I realized.  Both bloody idiots.”  All three men laughed at that, although Harry’s laughter was still containing the evidence of strain.

It was Rolf’s turn to enter now, followed shortly after by Dean.  “The Queen says that its almost time to go.”  Rolf began, plopping down in a chair next to the door.  He had been incredibly vocal about hating being dressed up, so he grouchily played with his collar as well.  Dean just sighed and clenched the bridge of his nose.

“Gin sent me to make sure you lot got to the alter in one piece and on time, and I am not trying to upset my incredibly pregnant wife.”  Dean liked to joke about Ginny, but the man had not stopped talking about her pregnancy and how excited they were to be parents.  When Hermione had accepted Harry’s proposal, he had requested that Dean be assigned as his personal guard.  The two men had grown closer, as had Ginny and Hermione.

“Well it wouldn’t do to upset Ginny.  Best get this show on the road gentlemen.”  Harry took one last long look at the men gathered around him.  Sirius, Ron, Rolf, and Dean had all played their part in helping Harry to get to this moment, and he felt his throat tighten as he began to get emotional over all the people who weren’t able to be there.  “I…I wish they could be here to see this.  They would’ve loved her…I’m sure of that.”  He could feel tears working their way up to his eyes, and he rubbed them away before they could threaten to spill over.  Sirius’s hand moved to Harry’s shoulder, and it made the boy look up.

“They would have; and they would’ve been so proud of you.”  Pulling his godson into a tight hug, Sirius cleared his throat.  “Time to go get married…son.”

The four men walked together through the stone halls of the Palace.  They were to ride in a carriage to Hogwarts.  Harry had laughed hysterically when Hermione had expressed a desire to marry in the place they first met.  The library was not big enough to house their ceremony, but the grounds would do.

Ron was thoroughly enjoying his duty as Harry’s best man, making sure that Harry understood just how lucky he was.

“I’m just saying mate, a year ago you had to beg your Aunt to come to the market with me and now you’re going to be a Prince.  A Prince!!”  Ron had taken to being a member of court like a fish takes to water.  It helped that he had begun to court Lady Susan.  Grand feasts and fancy parties were Ron’s idea of a perfect life.  Of course, Molly had been thrilled to discover that not only was Ron courting a Lady in Waiting, but also that Harry would one day be king.

The carriage came to an abupt halt, and Harry drew in a deep ragged breath.  This was not unlike the feeling he had all those months ago when they had arrived in the Capitol for his fiancée’s birthday.  It was still strange to him, even now, to call her that.  When his mother had died, for a long while, he was convinced that he would never marry; that he would never find a love as deep and wholesome as his parents.  Some days he could even remember his father’s face, his father’s voice, the look of love he shared with his wife.

Ron seemed to sense Harry’s unease because his joking manner slipped back to pull a more serious face.  “You know I’ve been telling you for months how lucky you are, but I don’t think I ever really got round to telling you how lucky I am.  That day when you happened to be passing by the river and you save Ginny, that was the best day of my life.  Urm…obviously not because of Gin almost dying, but because for the first time in my life I had a true friend.”  The ginger man held out his hand for Harry, which the darker haired man took eagerly in a firm shake.

“You’re my best friend Ron.  Brothers?”  Harry offered, his voice full of emotion as he looked at the man who had grown from the boy he once knew.

“Well I already have five of those, so who’ll notice one more.  I’m with you Harry.  Through anything.  Now if I don’t get you out of this carriage in the next few seconds, Gin is going to murder me and I don’t fancy you having to throw my pregnant sister in the dungeons.”  Ron clapped his hand on Harry’s back and exited the carriage.  Harry followed suit, and the first thing he noticed was that the air was filled with thunderous noise.  Those who didn’t have invitations to the wedding ceremony had gathered in droves around the perimeter.  Just past the castle gates, hundreds if not thousands of people were standing, shouting his name.

“Are all these people here for me?”  Harry choked out, suddenly overwhelmed again.  His record for not feeling like he might vomit had been going strong at a solid two and a half minutes.

“No.  They’re here for me.  I’m very famous you know.”  Ron joked, rolling his eyes and pushing forward to the castle grounds.  Dumbledore and McGonagall were among those in attendance, and Harry noticed that Dumbledore was wearing a rather ostentatiously green outfit; it somehow fit the older wizard though.  Sirius had travelled ahead of them in a prior carriage, so he was standing at the end of his row of seats with a tall sandy-blonde haired man who looked rather tired.

Upon noticing Harry’s arrival, Sirius’s face lit up, and the man beside him looked like he might try to run.  “Harry, come.  There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Harry, curiosity peaked, obeyed the instructions swiftly.  He had a few minutes to spare before the ceremony was to begin anyway.  “Hello.”  He greeted once he approached the pair.  It did not escape his notice that the man flinched when he met his eyes.  By that point, he was fairly certain just precisely who this man was.  “Remus Lupin.”

The blonde man looked nervously between Harry and Sirius before taking a deep breath.  “Hello Harry.  You’ll have to excuse my lack of decorum, all my knowledge of court is from your father and Sirius and neither was very inclined towards behaving.”

Sirius took mock offense to this, pouting at his friend.  This earned a meager laugh from the other man who defended his claim.  “Oh please.  By the time we graduated Hogwarts you hadn’t even learned the difference between a salad fork and a brandy bottle.”  Sobering after he caught Harry’s eye again, Lupin cleared his throat.  “I meant what I said in my letter you know; when you are ready to hear my stories, I am ready to tell them.”

Harry nodded brightly at the man, holding out his arm.  Lupin grasped his hand and the men shared in a handshake that seemed to cement their presence in each other’s lives.

“Ready to take our seats my friend?”  Sirius interrupted, noticing the guests had begun to sit.

“Friend?  Even after all this time?”  Lupin asked, the words nearly catching in his throat.

“Always.”  Sirius reassured, shooting one last wink at his godson before making his way down the row.  Harry saw Lupin’s eyes flicker briefly with pain and then again with relief before he too took his seat.  Standing in the middle of the aisle, Harry made eye contact with Dumbledore, who now stood in his position underneath the beautiful flower arch that had been constructed.  It had only made sense for the older man to officiate.

Stepping forward towards the man, he saw that Ron had taken his place at the beginning of the aisle with pride, standing precisely where he had been told to and looking every bit of a nobleman.  He was going to escort Lady Susan, who Hermione had chosen as her handmaiden.  Taking his own place, Harry turned briefly to Dumbledore, watching as the man eyed him with amusement beneath the half-moon spectacles he wore.

“You knew…when I told you I’d met a girl all those months ago.  You knew who she was.”  It was part question, part accusation, but the man didn’t even need to speak the answer.  A sly grin worked its way onto the wrinkles of his face, and Harry shook his head.

“You could have told me you know; might have saved me a bit of shock.”  Harry’s voice was full of warmth and the man gave him a knowing chuckle.

“Your love was written in the stars, who was I to interfere.  Now if I’m not mistaken, we are about to begin.”  He winked once more at Harry, with a brilliant twinkle in his eye just as the band began to play a sweet song orchestral piece.

Lady Susan and Ron began to make their way down the aisle, and he gave Harry a warm smile when he parted with her to stand by his side.  Everyone stood as Queen Helen made her way to the aisle.  She was a vision of mature beauty, her long brown hair pulled up into an elaborate updo held together by a series of spectacular diamond pins.  On her head, she wore a matching gold and ruby crown that complimented the rich red gown she wore.

Once she was arrived at the end of the path, Queen Helen gave Harry a kiss on each cheek before standing in front of the thrones that were set closest to the front for the King and Queen.  The band completed their movement and began to play the bridal march, and Harry felt his heart stop.  He first noticed the King approaching, as he was a rather tall man wearing a crown, but the next thing his eyes landing on took his breath away.

Hermione was wearing a long flowing white gown with gold and red embroidery and full length sleeves.  Her long bushy chestnut hair had been braided and wrapped up in a similar way to her mother’s.  A golden tiara rested on the top of her head, weaving into her curly hair as it sprung free from her meticulously crafted style.  From the back of her crown, a long white veil flowed behind her, catching the wind as she walked.

Harry hadn’t realized he hadn’t been breathing until she arrived next to him, and her father stood in front of him, holding his hand out for a handshake.  This was the first moment in the ceremony; the moment where her father gave him his blessing to provide for his daughter and to love her for the rest of her life.  Inhaling sharply to fill the space that his lungs needed, Harry grabbed the man’s hand and shook it strongly.

Her small hand reached out for his, and he happily let her rest it on top of his.  Ron and Susan each took a piece of white ribbon and wrapped their now entwined hands.  Dumbledore began speaking, and the world was silent except for the chirping of birds and his voice.

“We gather here to celebrate a concept as old as time.  Love.  Few people understand just how powerful a love can be.  Harry James Potter and Hermione Jean Victoria Elizabeth are here before you to express their everlasting love for one another.”  The older man grabbed the ends of the ribbons, tying them together.  “This ribbon represents the lives of these two young people, who are now tied together in every way.  I believe it was their desire to express their feelings to each other and all of you in their own words.”  Hermione nodded her head quietly, turning towards Harry.

“Harry.  When we first met in the Hogwarts library, I felt a warmth fill my heart and I now realize that was my love for you growing.  You didn’t know who I was; didn’t care about my crown or my title.  All you saw of me was who I truly was beneath the weight of all of this.  And in that moment I knew that I would love you, and I would love you like I’d never loved anyone before.  When you left the night of my birthday ball, I was resigned to the fact that I would have to live my life without you, and thus without love.  I am so very blessed to be standing next to you here today and to be asking you to join me on this journey of life.  I loved you then, I love you now, and I will love you with all I have for the rest of my days.”  Both she and Harry were fighting tears after her words, and Harry squeezed her hand lightly before clearing his throat.

“I had no ambitions or desires when I met you.  I was sadly content with my life, having understood that I was not destined for more.  My mother and father, from what I remember of them, were the very personification of love.  They lived their lives so full of love, and I was so sure that I was not ever going to be loved like that.  And then I met you, and slowly but all at once, my world began to change.”  Harry couldn’t fight the tears anymore and felt their warm sting in the corners of his eyes.  A sniffling to his left caught his attention, and he chuckled briefly to find Sirius sobbing. 

“You are my world, you are my life, you are my everything, and I am honored to call you my wife.  I will love you with all I am, and all I can be, until the end of time.”  By the time he had finished his vow, a chorus of sniffling and whimpers fell through the crowd as many cried.  Hermione had begun to cry as well, although she smiled brightly through the tears.

Dumbledore allowed them a moment of eye contact before continuing with he handfasting.  The ribbon had been tied, but now it was time to remove the ribbon to allow for the exchange of rings.  Ron stepped up to place the delicately carved golden bands onto a velvet pillow now held in the older man’s hands.

“Harry, you shall go first.  Take her hand.”  Harry did as he was instructed, grabbing hold of Hermione’s left hand.  “Now repeat after me.  I, Harry James Potter,”

_“I, Harry James Potter,”_

“Take you, Hermione Jean Victoria Elizabeth,”

_“Take you, Hermione Jean Victoria Elizabeth,”_

“To have, to hold and to cherish,”

_“To have, to hold and to cherish,”_

“Until death do us part.”

 _“Until death do us part.”_   Harry finished; the ring placed firmly on her hand.  They shared an excited smile before she took his ring and turned back to him.

“Now Princess Hermione, I, Hermione Jean Victoria Elizabeth,”

_“I, Hermione Jean Victoria Elizabeth,”_

“Take you, Harry James Potter,”

_“Take you, Harry James Potter,”_

“To have, to hold and to cherish,”

_“To have, to hold and to cherish,”_

“Until death do us part.”

_“Until death do us part.”_

She placed her ring on his finger, and he could feel a fire beneath his skin as her fingers touched him.  His heart was pounding as her beautiful honey eyes and their golden flecks met his.  Dumbledore said something else, but Harry didn’t register anything until he heard the words he had been waiting all this time for.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride.”  Harry didn’t need to be told twice as he closed the distance between him and Hermione immediately.  Her lips tasted slightly of strawberry, and they were as soft as he remembered.  She deepened the kiss after a moment, wrapping her arms around him.  The world began to come back to him as the loud cheers erupted in the crowd.  Separating from his new wife, he smiled brightly out towards the crowd.

There was one more thing they had to do, and Harry turned back towards where Dumbledore had been standing.  The older man had been replaced by the King and Queen, each holding a crown in their hands.  Hermione and Harry knelt before them, as Lady Susan removed Hermione’s tiara from her carefully crafted updo.

The King raised his hand, and all those present quickly quieted and sat.   “Ever since the day of my daughter’s birth, I have wondered what form her husband might take.  It is my honor to bestow upon this man the title of Prince Consort.  May you rule by her side with a just heart and a life of love.”  The Queen placed Hermione’s crown on her head and soon after, her husband placed a crown on Harry’s head.  It was strange for him how light it was, for holding the weight of the world.  One look at Hermione though, and he knew that it was all worth it.

“Rise now for the first time as Husband and Wife, Princess Hermione and Prince Harry.”  They stood and waved as another round of applause exploded in the crowd.  Harry smiled brightly and gazed down lovingly at the woman by his side.  Finally breathing fully, he kissed her again.

The world was full of love, and all was well.


End file.
